


I Want You Back, But as a Package

by Control_Room



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Dancing, Don't Like Don't Read, Eventual Romance, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrated, M/M, Rituals, Sexual Themes, Showers, my art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 09:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16972116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room
Summary: Grant had dated Henry, and then the animator left the studio (and him.Grant started to date Joey.Henry came back, and Grant is torn.





	I Want You Back, But as a Package

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halfusek](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=halfusek).



> eska kim and niamh (mentioned) are random_ag's

****Grant found himself in a lot of situations lately. First he’s begging his boyfriend not to leave, then he found his boss in a similar state of pleading with the animator, just as unsuccessful. After that, he discovered that his boss had no problem taking his feelings of frustration, bitterness, and loneliness out on Grant, and Grant had no qualms against the idea of being used like that, his own sadness turned into pleasure, Joey murmuring defamations and choking him out delightfully. He was grateful for Joey’s anger, as it gave both of them a release. Until he realized the true extent of Joey’s twisted emotions. It was not aggravation or vexation, but guilt and disappointment in himself. The anger was just a product of not knowing how to express himself. **  
**

Grant found that out after one of their ‘sessions’, he clearly having thought the accountant asleep, Joey curling up in the corner of their bed and hissing how pathetic he was. At first, Grant had assumed that he was talking about him, and was right about ready to jump up and break everything off with the man, until he caught the little whisper, “You’re very damn lucky Grant stays with you, you utter filth. Grant can do much better than  _you_.”

Grant did not let him say much after that, pulling him down onto their sheets, completely unraveling the man, holding him close as Joey held back tears, trembling in his arms.

Joey was hurting.

Grant was hurting.

All because one man could not look at the world from other people’s eyes.

They promised each other they’d get better, but in the meantime, what they were doing was okay. Henry did not matter anymore. He left, he left Grant’s private life as well as Joey’s entire life, and they were not going to dwell on him anymore (at least, that’s what they vowed to one another, but both of their thoughts were constantly trained on the man who broke their hearts like a vice). What mattered now was each other.

 _Not_ Henry.

‘Selfish bastard’, Grant thought to himself sourly upon seeing a note from Henry, possibly several months old, sitting in his desk. He shoved it into the trash bin, telling himself to instruct Wally to burn all the papers in it. ‘Couldn’t even say goodbye to his own damn boyfriend. Just left. Bam.’

He set himself to his work, ignoring the pain in his chest, calculating how much further in debt they sank.

Fortunately, it was a good month, stocks had wavered up, and astoundingly, for the first time in a year, they had actually made a profit. A meager profit, but a profit nonetheless. Perhaps it was due to Bertrum’s suggestion to open Bendy Land early, so as to gain patrons and investors. It correlated to the data, and Grant found himself looking  _forward_ to his financial meeting with Joey. Not that he did not  _always_ look forward to them, but this time because he had good news for the company in lieu of good news for his body.

Sometime in the day Joey came quietly into his room with a coffee, handing it to him with a kiss on the neck, teeth softly grazing a bruise left from a previous night. Grant smiled a little, turning his head to catch his boss’ lips, but they were already gone. Joey was leaning over him, peering at the numbers.

“Shouldn’t that be a negative?” he asked with a chuckle and a grin, pointing at the final figure, but Grant could hear the strain in his voice and could see the way his brows furrowed ever so slightly, his true sadness. Grant let his smile broaden. Joey’s eyes widened, then narrowed. He looked down at him, eyes full of suspicion. “Are you just making me happy so I’ll fuck you harder when I find out this is fake?”

“No, Joey, do I lie?” Grant chuckled, then noticed Joey’s scrutinizing gaze. He swallowed roughly, recalling when he had told the man that they were a million dollars in debt, a fallacy, but it nonetheless resulted with him on the floor and two lithe hands around his neck, angered tones demanding why the hell he allowed the studio to collapse so far into debt, Grant yanking him down and kissing him, ending up with his body tingling and filthy comments hissed in his ear, the wooden floor rubbing against his bare skin, Joey’s hands working within him and taking over his entire body. That had been a lie, and for the very purpose Joey had proposed. Grant took his hand. “Joey, listen to me, we are out. Of. Debt. Do you understand?”

“How?” the now bewildered artist asked, beginning to pace Grant’s small office. “How are we not in debt? We were practically about to end it all a month ago, damnit, how are we… how!?”

“Bertrum’s idea seems to have worked,” Grant shrugged, watching Joey’s feet go back and forth. “According to this, we should expect a rise in stock purchases, and through that, we’ll move back up the charts, slowly, but steady.”

“Hm. And shouldn’t it be faster, or higher, then?” Joey asked, draping himself over Grant’s lap, trapping one of his arms under his lanky legs, twirling his long fingers in his tie. He tugged him down swiftly, twinkling ruddy maroon meeting soft calculating brown. [“Tell me, Mr. Cohen, are you embezzling as much as you are dazzling?”](http://insane-control-room.tumblr.com/post/181050487377/a-bit-of-a-hint-at-an-upcoming-fic-d)

“Won’t tell you for the life of me.”

“Ah, I see. Must I…” the smallest of tugs on his tie sending tingles through his body, “Remove the air of life from you for the answer?”

He loved when Joey was like this. Secretly asking for consent, always respecting his wishes. There may have been a Joey with no care for the man, but this Joey truly did. They even had a safeword, something- that Grant didn’t know why - about having one made him feel so much better to have. Joey would hold him and tell him reassurances if he went too far, he would always take care of him after an ‘anger management session’, always informing how good he was and how much he adored him. Joey always was there for him.

Unlike Henry.

A wave of bitter resentment crashed through Grant, the taste removing any pleasure that may have built in his system. He shook his head. Joey shrugged, and gave him a peck on the lips, hesitant almost. The chicano studied him, and sighed after a moment.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you, Grant?” he murmured softly, no judgement in his tone and only a wistfulness in its place. He nodded, looking away. “Aw, Grant, it’s alright. Why…” Joey’s mind formulated plans quickly, and he returned his gaze to Grant with a spark in his eyes, “why don’t you go home a bit early?” His smirk deigned his ulterior motive, as did the hand on Grant’s chest, gripping his tie. “Dear Grant, it’s already four, you know…” those damn priggish puppy eyes melted him, and Joey knew it, smiling, “and this way you can get yourself ready for me….”

“Now you’re thinking with that massive brain of yours, Mr. Drew,” he replied with a smirk of his own. Joey feigned offence, pursing his lips. “You usually think out of your ass, in all due honesty.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,” Joey grinned, holding back a chuckle. Grant rolled his eyes. “I tend to use the front of my body, thank you very much. As for my ass, it is currently under your ownership”

“Well, you better put your money where your mouth is, Joey, and use those pretty little lips for something better than sweet talking,” Grant chuckled deeply, the rumble reverberating onto Joey. The lanky man blushed, his lips murmuring something in spanish before he fleetly pressed them to his cheek, then covered his flushed face with his hands. Grant kissed the tip of his nose with a smirk, enjoying the peep that escaped Joey. “Not quite, but nice.”

“I’ll be not nice, yet quite enough, tonight, darling,” Joey rebutted, batting his eyelashes, grinning through his lightened blush. Grant caught his mouth, and Joey’s hand reflexively tightened on his tie. Though the kiss hardly was anything sensual, Grant could feel his heart already beginning to pound. Grant pulled him closer. Joey’s free hand trailed his shoulder, gently rubbing out tense muscles. Joey carefully pulled back, Grant looking down at Joey in his lap pridefully. He swallowed, glancing away before getting up. Joey kissed his forehead quickly. “I’ll see you later then, right?”

“Excellent,” Grant replied, getting up himself, straightening out his jacket, making sure Joey’s eyes were on him as he adjusted his tie, watching the hungry desire wash through the tall man. Grant left his office before Joey, swiftly turning on his toes on the stairs to kiss him, eliciting a squeak. Grant pulled away after a moment, grinning at his stunned face, heading up the stairs as Joey stood in a daze. “See you!”

He hummed on his way home, thankful for the extra time off. Joey wanted him to prepare for the night, but if he wouldn’t, Joey wouldn’t pressure. But… maybe it would be nice if Joey would come home to him done up in slip knots, or him moaning on their bed, still mostly dressed, but ready for Joey to make him a mess. Grant shook his head, glancing around on the metro, grateful the few people there weren’t looking at him. He stepped off quickly, rushing the rest of the way home, his excitement catching up to him. He barely held himself back from slamming the door, trying to plan a scene, his body too tense to think. He bit his lip. He needed to calm down a little. He breathed, the same way he would show Joey to help  _him_ relax. He hung up his jacket, lovingly stroking the one next to it, before remembering - Joey wasn’t home yet. And it was shorter and wider than the thin man’s. Grant’s heart stopped, then began pounding. Maybe it was one of his own? But most of his were in the closet. He could have taken it out without realizing… that was possible, yes, and in domestic bliss he came to realize he became more forgetful. He let out a pent up breath. Getting worked up over nothing… he chuckled. As much as he was helping Joey, he also found he was getting some of the other’s traits. Rolling out his arms to loosen his shoulders, he made his way up to his, their, room with a bounce in his step, closing his eyes and letting muscle memory take over. He flopped down, smiling a little to himself as he snuggled down on the bed.

“What, not even a ‘hello’?”

Grant sat up quickly, eyes staring at the man in the armchair beside the desk.

Henry grinned at him, setting aside the book he was reading. Grant’s throat constricted, and not in the breathtaking (haha) way Joey made it.

“Come on Grant, how’ve you been? Work been alright?”

“How dare you!?” the accountant demanded, jumping up. “You _left **me**_! Without a goodbye, even, how dare you think you’re welcome back in my home!?”

“Babe, look, I’m sorry,” Henry stood up and took his hands in his own, clasping them to his chest. He pulled Grant to him, trailing his hand down his side. “I wasn’t thinking right, you were always right, Grant, you always are…. Oh, god…. You look so good right now. Mind if I… make you feel just as good as you look?”

“I’m, uh. I’m with someone else now,” Grant indignantly retorted, pulling back. Confusion struck Henry and he blinked, opening his mouth, but Grant cut him off, pulling his hands back and crossing his arms. “What, do you think that I’d be stuck on you? You dumped me!”

“I… I did,” he admitted, and Grant stared in shock. Henry  _never_ admitted to his mistakes. “I did, I fucked up, Grant, I fucked up so bad, I never should have left you, you’re not the company. You’re so much more, so much better. You’re Grant Cohen, and I love you.”

He pulled him close again, Grant lost in his teal eyes, helpless to stop him. Their lips brushed, Henry looking up at him brazenly.

“Anyone who says otherwise is a fuckin’ liar,” Henry muttered, hitting a few nerves, and sensitive ones at that. Joey always told Grant that if Henry truly loved him, he wouldn’t have left in the blink of an eye. However,  Joey’s pathological lying also caused a vein of doubt to bloom in Henry’s words. Henry held the back of Grant’s head and pulled him into the kiss, he liquefying in his strong and broad arms. Henry deepened the kiss, Grant dissolving further into moans in his mouth. Hands explored Grant’s body, and his hips jerked, stimulated by harsh caresses. Henry grinned even as his explored his mouth with his tongue. Grant summoned all his strength and pushed him away. Henry’s mouth pressed open and wet kisses on his neck, blowing ever so slightly, making the hair on the back of his neck raise, and then “What’s that? You’re hurt?”

The bruise. Joey hadn’t gone too far then, but the buckle of Grant’s own belt rubbed against him a little roughly compared to ropes or collars. Grant shook his head.

“I’m fine, it’s just…” he swallowed, eyes flicking to the bin under the bed. Henry’s eyes followed. It wasn’t like Henry didn’t know about his masochism (ok, it was a kink as well), as he did know, but he was too uncomfortable to do anything of the sort with him (but they had a compromise). Grant flushed, at first in embarrassment, then anger, then pride. “Yeah… m-my  _boyfriend_ , who  _didn’t_ leave me, did that. He’s good. I mean, heh, like, really, really good.”

“Really now?” It was Henry’s turn to grin. “Who is this boyfriend, exactly?”

“He’s…” Grant trailed off, recalling Henry’s dislike of the man as their once friendly relationship deteriorated. The front door opened and closed beneath them, quiet whistling under their feet. Grant gulped at Henry’s outraged look. They both knew that whistling. “He’s home, I suppose.”

“That piece of shit?!” Henry snarled, making Grant wince. “What did he do, threaten to fire you?”

“No, for your information I started the relationship,” Grant hissed back, hurt by what Henry had said about the tall man. Henry’s arms, still holding him, tightened. “Joey’s a changed man. We changed him, he and I.”

“Don’t expect me to believe that,” Henry rolled his eyes. He kissed Grant again, the man reluctant and pushing him back. Henry scowled, quietly instructing him in his ear, goosebumps breaking out on his skin; “Break it off with him.  _We_ is you and I.”

A soft knock on the door.

“Grant? Darling, dinner will be ready soon, is there anything I can get you?” Joey asked through the wood. Grant’s mouth felt dry and incapable of speaking. He didn’t answer. “Are you alright?”

More silence.

“I-I’m going to assume you’re resting…” Joey’s voice wavered, “maybe you have your headphones on…” he sighed. “I’ll check back on you later, ok dear?”

Grant still couldn’t reply.

“... I… Grant, I love you.”

His troubled footsteps echoed away from them. Grant’s heart ached.

“He’s changed, Henry, and I lo- I care about him,” Grant whispered. Henry’s face remained in a glower, distrustful. “Please, Henry, I… we’re through. You left me in a heartbeat. I… I can’t be with you, I’m with Joey.”

“Grant. Are you hearing yourself?” Henry shook his head. “You say that like it’s normal. How do you know he’s not going to kill you or something? Joey’s a bitch. He is the worst person I’ve ever met; manipulative, angry, forceful, and a bitch!”

“No he’s not!” Grant fought to keep his voice down and low. Henry’s displeasure increased. “He’s better! He’s not perfect, no, nobody is, but he’s better!”

“Better than me?” Henry’s voice was laced with offence, hurt, and zealousy. Grant stared at him, his mouth slightly ajar, unable to answer in the affirmative or negative. Henry pulled him back against his chest. “No.”

Grant inhaled sharply, shivering. Henry lowered his head so their eyes were on level.

Another knock, still cautious.

“G-Grant? I’m coming in, to check if you’re alright…. I’m worried.”

Henry slammed him into a kiss as the door opened, stepping back to force Grant to lean on him, kissing deep and hard. Joey walked in, holding a cup with hearts on it and not looking up. Henry grinned at him.

“Grant, love, I brought you something to dri-” he rose his head, the soft anxious smile on his lips vanishing and replaced with an empty look of dashed hopes. The cup clattered out of Joey’s hand and shattered on the floor, the pieces scattering. Henry watched, still kissing Grant, waiting for the anger to kick in, in three, two, on- “Oh…” wait, what? “I… I see I’m…” his breathing picked up, but he forced it down with a wavering smile. Where was the rage? the screaming and fighting? “I see I’m interrupting…” he swallowed, looking at the broken glass by his feet. “I’ll just clean this up and leave you two be….”

He quickly left, his footfalls light and fast, a stranger in his own home. Henry shoved Grant into the chair, hands gripping him tightly. Grant’s hips rubbed against him, gasping in their kiss. Joey’s return was hardly noticed and he rushed off as soon as the glass was cleared. Grant weakly pushed Henry, and the man broke away. Grant tried to catch his breath, shuddering beneath him. The only sounds in the house were Grant’s forceful breathing and Joey’s pacing.

“That son of a bitch!” Joey cried out under them after a while, muting himself with his hand. Henry cocked an eyebrow at Grant, smirking. Point proven. Anger issues were still there. “No, no no, Henry’s fine, he and Grant were dating before, they never officially broke it off, it’s fine, Grant can make his own decisions, fuck, calm down, it’s fine, you can just… pack up and go later… fuck. Fuck, fuck! Go where!? It’s fine, I’ll figure it out. It’s fine. Breathe. It’ll all be okay.”

Grant smiled at Henry’s blankened face.

“See?” he asked him quietly. “He’s changed, Henry. You and I are done.”

“It didn’t look like that to me when you were moaning my name just a few minutes ago,” Henry retorted. Fuck, he did do that. Henry was still so good…. “You were only dating him because I was gone. I’m back now, babe, he can go. It’s you and me, right?”

“Henry, you can’t just strut back into my life and expect everything to be peaches and cream!” Grant hissed. “You left me, crying and pleading with you to stay! I was terrified, Henry, don’t you get it? I  _ **loved**_ you! and you abandoned me, in the middle of the night like a coward!”

“It was the biggest mistake of my life,” he reinstated. “Please, Grant, think this through. Do you want to be with someone who loves and cares about you, or someone who beats you for pleasure? A sadist! That’s what Joey is! He fucking enjoys hurting you, clearly!”

“No, he doesn’t, he does it because I ask!” Grant shouted. There was a jump heard downstairs, rushing towards the staircase before freezing and retreating, an unasked ‘are you alright?’ hanging in the air. “Joey is a good person, Henry, just because we fuck hard doesn’t make him a bad one!”

“Fuck hard, eh?” Henry glared down at him. He got up to lock the door. His shadow covered Grant, looming over him, his eyes glazing over him hungrily. Grant felt tingling spread through his body. “I can do that.”

 

* * *

 

Their bodies were like puzzle pieces. There was no height difference keeping them from kissing and rubbing each other at the same time. There were no angry comments or demanding teases. Like before he left.

He was Henry.

Not like Joey.

Grant couldn’t hold back anymore.

Henry wasn’t Joey, but Joey wasn’t there.

Henry was the one.

He cried out his name.

 

* * *

 

Joey was downstairs in the kitchen, staring at the table, a cold cup of tea beside him, uneaten food before him. He wasn’t hungry. He could hear them having sex, and loud. Henry could have been doing it on purpose, but it was unlikely. Grant simply loved  _him_ , and not Joey. He dropped his head in his hands, pressing them to his ears, trying to block out the noises. Grant’s hurt the most. Some of the things the brunette shouted were things he never said to Joey. He blushed, hating his inability to please him enough, hoping the best for him and obviously not the right one to  **be** the best for him. Grant’s moaning yells spelled that out.

_So good!_

_Right there!_

_Stein, you’re so fucking excellent! A-ah!_

_Yes yes yes!_

_Ohhh god, you feel so right…!_

_I love you, damnit!_

_Hn, perfect!_

_Heeenry!_

Joey tried covering his ears harder, tears stinging his eyes and a scream clawing at his throat. Grant  _never_ called him good, let alone  _perfect_. There was a noise that escaped his lips.

Grant hand  _ **never**_ said he loved Joey, not once in all their time together.

Another sound ripped through his lips.

It took a moment to figure it out before another tore through him.

A sob.

He was crying.

What a bitch.

He shoved away the plate of untouched food, his hands shaking and his vision blurred. He covered his mouth with both hands, trying to repress sobs. Grant’s moans increased in volume and urgency, shouting Henry’s name repeatedly. Joey broke down, bawling into his hands silently, shoulders heaving in his pain. His teeth grit as he shook, the sound of lovemaking above him and locked away. Grant wasn’t his. He never was, he was always Henry’s, his shouts proving it. He never called Joey’s name like that. Joey stumbled to the couch, grabbing one of Grant’s sweaters he always seemed to leave laying around, curling up and holding it close and burying his face in it as Henry claimed Grant as his again; a reminder that Grant never loved him.

He cried himself to sleep to the sound of them making love between each other, throwing him in the dust.

 

* * *

 

“Good morning,” Joey quietly greeted them, keeping his head down. He hesitantly handed Grant his coffee. He was certain his eyes were still red, so he’d made sure not to look at him. “Is there anything to… discuss?”

“Well,” Henry’s baritone was lauded with smugness as he sat, pulling Grant onto his lap. “Do you still have a job open at the studio?”

“Of course,” Joey sighed, smiling crudely to himself, “you’ll have your old position back, and you’ll now have four animators under you.”

“Ah, very good,” Henry hummed, nuzzling the back of Grant’s neck. “I’ll also need an extended break to spend more time with Grant.”

“... alright,” came the meek response. “Darl- G-Grant, should I… I can… I’ll leave.”

“No!” Grant protested, then blushed as Henry’s arms tightened around him. “I-I mean, you sold your apartment, and you can’t live in the studio like you did that really, really, bad month. It’s not like I don’t have a guest room.”

Joey’s smile tightened.

“The guest room, right. Thank you,” he murmured, smiling tensely, getting up and pushing away his second uneaten meal. “I’ll… see you at work, then.”

He nodded at each, his eyes lingering in melancholy on Grant.

“Mr. Stein. Mr. Cohen.”

The door closed quietly.

“Give him a chance, Henry,” Grant softly requested. Henry’s expression hardened, and he shook his head and buried his face in Grant’s shoulder. Grant sighed, tilting his head back. “Listen to me, he’s changed. He’s a better man than you left him.”

“I don’t give a damn.” he muttered, kissing his shoulder and neck, nipping his ear. “You are the one I need, Grant. You. Not him. One. Not two. Need. Not want. Grant. Not  **Joey**.”

“We’re killing him, though,” Grant mumbled. Henry chuckled. “It’s the damn truth, and you know it.”

“Do I care?”

“... no.”

“See, you know the answer to that. Now, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

Joey’s door, riddled with holes and dents of being punched through and slammed open, flew off its hinges. The wood clattered onto the floor, revealing a bright red, cross, and indignant Bertrum, still holding the handle of Joey’s door, accidentally crushing it.

“Why is  _he_ back!?” he demanded in a shout, throwing it into the floor. Joey stared. Bertrum hardly ever got angry. Sure, he displayed displeasement or vexation, but never rage. “Why is motherfucking  _Stein_ back!? That son of a bitch left Grant crying for three weeks! How  _dare_ he walk into this studio?! And how can you, you jackass, how can you  _rehire him_?! Especially with what he said to you! Have you lost your mind, Johan!?”

“You are very protective of Mr.s Grosso and Cohen,” Joey gently pointed out, hoping to startle the man enough to calm him, successful in his endeavor. “He… yes. He’s back. I… I can’t, Bertrum, I can’t, I can’t… I’m not good enough for Grant.”

“Don’t tell me they’re back together, too,” Bertrum groaned, rubbing his forehead. Joey hesitantly nodded, biting his lip. “Son of a… wait. No. No, he didn’t! That bloody shit! What about you!? Did he make Grant dump you!? That douchebag, that insolent scum of the Earth, that keràstes! Glàmon bdelyròs!”

“Are you finished yet?” Joey softly questioned, bemused as always by Bertrum’s native Greek. “Or are you stil-”

“Pankataratos aphòdeuma!” Bertrum shouted, punching a hole flat through Joey’s wall. Norman, in the room Bertrum had broken into, stared at them. Bertrum flipped him off. “Es kòrakas, you fatherfucker!”

He angrily stormed out, Joey following to try and calm him. They both ended up in the pub room, and then… Henry came in. Everything fell silent. Bertrum moved right up to him, extending his hand, palm forward, a centimeter from Henry’s face.

“Par'ta,” he growled, smacking the back of his hand, all his fingers splayed. He spun around, leaving down to the amusement park workstation. No one spoke. Henry swallowed roughly. Everyone knew if Bertrum did that gesture, it meant that you were dead to him, and if you were alone in a room with him, he would try to kill you. Shawn had learned that the hard way once. However, this time was even harsher, as he doubled the gesture, a double mountza.

People edged away from Joey and Henry. Away from Henry in case he would drop dead, and away from Joey because the man was a ticking time bomb. Joey bounced on his heels for a moment, blushing, then quickly made for an escape to his office.

“Joey,” Henry called after him. He paused on the stairs, turning to look at him. Henry simply grinned widely, maliciously. “He’s mine. You can ask him. Or you already know, don’t you?”

“I… know.” Joey flushed, tucked his head down, and ran to his office, trying to force back tears. He froze on the way there, remembering his office’s door was off the hinges and on the floor. He quietly turned to the lower levels, dashing into Bertrum’s office. The man was ranting at Lacie about the sheer lunacy of Henry, his brazen insolence! Joey flung himself onto him, breaking down into shuddering sobs. “Bertrum, I-I’m sorry, not only because I’m crying on you, b-but because I failed… I failed Grant… I failed him….”

“Johan…” Bertrum hugged him, sighing. Lacie patted his back, slightly confused by Bertrum’s kindness toward Joey. “You didn’t fail him. Henry is just a manipulative shit. You don’t deserve the shit he’s throwing at you. Grant needs to realize you’ve become much better than Henry would ever be.”

“But… I tried so hard to help him forget about him,” he whimpered, trembling. “I want him to be h-happy, and I’m scared that H-Henry is gonna break his heart again….”

“If he does, I’ll tear his from his chest,” Bertrum assured him. Joey laughed a little before recognizing his seriousness. “I can and will, if he dares. Don’t fret, Mr. Drew. Grant should see you’re better than Henry.”

“I’m not, though,” Joey hiccuped, his knees collapsing, allowing him to bury his face in Bertrum’s chest. The older man sighed, rocking the distraught taller one. “Grant, Grant, darling, amazing, my beautiful Grant….”

He cried for half an hour on Bertrum’s shoulder, the man not minding in the slightest.

 

* * *

 

Joey walked in as quietly as possible. It was silent in the house. He flinched. Quiet homes tended to be the most dangerous… it was on quiet days Josef was the worst to Johan. Step brothers with the same name but completely opposite personalities. Still, he had acquired some of Josef’s worst traits, like his anger.

But Grant… Grant helped him unlearn the rage. He undid the damage wrought by his father’s death. He was his rock, his savior, his love… but not his. Now only to be worshiped at a distance. He was Henry’s lover, Henry’s doll, Henry’s darling… and only his. To be loved and cared about and used and abused and hurt and-

 **Stop**. Full stop.

Henry would never hurt him. Never.

Henry was sweet and tender, even if he also was a bit of a jerk. He  _loved_ Grant, he’d never hurt him.

But Joey loved Grant too, and hurt him all the time.

No no, not like that, Grant wanted it, Grant liked it, and he was always careful not to go too far.

Did he like it?

Did he even  _like_ him?

Did he truly, really, have a single positive feeling towards the exceptionally tall artist, or was it all just an act?

He probably never loved or desired Joey, that the man could accept, but was he just exploiting his anger?

Was he using him for himself, just because he found someone who would do what Joey did?

Someone who would choke and fuck him at the same time, fulfilling fantasies?

Or was it the complete opposite? Did he truly despise their sessions?

Just doing it for Joey’s fury and not because he enjoyed it?

Grant started it, didn’t he? Grant had kissed him first…

But he kissed him while Joey was choking him.

That did not matter. He kissed him in fear.

He most likely did it to save his skin.

Guilt flooded into his system.

If anything, Joey raped him.

He fucking  ** _raped_** him.

While angrily strangling him.

Consent in fear was no consent at all.

Choked Grant on the floor and raped him.

Disgust with himself mixed with all the guilt.

His vision became wet and bleary, and his chest ached.

No wonder Grant stayed with him, he was scared, wasn’t he?

It was no shock that he flew back to Henry the moment he returned.

Joey dropped to his knees. He was no religious man, but believed in belief.

He kneeled beside the piano, the testimony of his life, internally quiet and loud outside.

He prayed for forgiveness from Grant. He prayed for his life. He prayed until words lost meaning.

To what? To who? A god? Many gods? The world? Nature? Heaven? Hell? To himself? To who, to what?

He could never answer that if he tried. So he stayed down on his knees, and prayed to everything and nothing.

 

* * *

 

The argument came out of nowhere.

Not entirely.

Grant had come into Joey’s office to drop off the still growing progress report, Joey seeming to forget about Henry’s existence, fixing Grant’s tie sweetly before remembering. He fell to his knees with tears in his eyes, told Grant he loved him still, and pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. Grant stiffened, looking at him in the corner of his eye, and Henry walked in. He decked him, Joey flying to the floor.

“You’re a piece of shit, Johan, you hear!?” Henry growled, looming over him menacingly, grinning roughly. “Nothing. Last weeks’ trash.”

“Stop that,” Joey stood, paling. Henry shoved him. “Henry, stop! Stop stop stop! I’m not worthless, stop!”

Grant watched helplessly as Henry pushed Joey again. A flurry of blows broke out, both knowing each other’s patterns so well that neither could land a hit.

They fought with screams and hisses, swinging attacks that always failed.

Henry lunged onto Joey, both of them crashing into the wall. Joey kicked his stomach, and Henry clawed at his shirt. Henry’s bow tie and sweater were torn off as he escaped a strangle hold. He slipped behind the disbalanced Joey, punching his back. Joey nearly collapsed, instead stumbling forward and bashing his head against a filing cabinet. Henry made a grab for him, snatching his jacket that was quickly removed, sending Henry tumbling back. Henry growled and tackled Joey again, body slamming him onto the floor, flipping him so he was on his stomach. Joey scrambled to get away, Henry grasping the back of his collar as he stood.

 _Riiiiiip_.

Joey’s eyes widened in fear, and he instantly became docile, compliant.

“H-Henry, please let me go,” he whimpered, trembling like a leaf. Henry scowled, yanking him back and shoving his head against the wood. “Henry! Let me go, please please please, let me up, get off, don’t look at my back!”

“Your back?” Henry questioned, freezing up, noticing the shirt he gripped was torn right through. He quickly pushed the cloth away to inspect, Joey shrieking in fear. “Oh my god… who did this?”

“No one, let me go, there’s nothing there!” Joey yelled, tears blazing in his amber eyes. “Get off, let me go, there’s nothing there!”

“There is most definitely a problem here, Joey,” Henry calmly told him, tracing some of the scars. Joey weakly moaned a ‘no’. “There are scars all over your back. There are burns and cuts. Who did this?”

“Oh, why did you go to medical school? To torture me with exactly what type of sc- marks I have?” he groaned, squirming beneath him. “Why are you asking me these questions!? Let me be! I’m fine!”

Henry released him. Joey picked himself up off the wooden floor, quickly grasping and putting on his jacket to cover the tear in his shirt.

[“What are the scars on your back?” Henry asked again.](http://insane-control-room.tumblr.com/post/181017807941/nothing-is-written-on-his-back-link-master-post)

“What scars?” was the plain retort. Henry gawked at him. “There are no scars.”

“On your bac-”

“What. Scars. There are none.”

“Joey, stop lyin-”

“I’m not lying. Do you see scars? No, you see a suit jacket. There. Are. No. Scars.”

He didn’t speak to anyone for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

Henry pressed kisses up Grant’s jawbone, almost as though to erase Joey’s caress from earlier. A gentle and content smile was on the accountant’s lips. Henry’s hand lazily pet his hip, the other messing with his pushed back hair. Grant’s hands were stroking his back, sometimes holding his head to his neck as to let him snap soft bites and gentle kisses. They had a filling dinner, and marvelous kisses, and just made out… the fourth time that day. Grant couldn’t believe Henry was back, and just as tender and passionate as he always had been, and now he was less arrogant - actually admitting to his mistakes! Henry had come back, and the first thing he did was beseech Grant’s forgiveness.

Grant pulled him into a kiss, their bodies rubbing against each other. Henry was an astounding partner, especially for Grant. He worked with him and constantly made sure he was alright, would slow dance with him on winter nights, would make him soup and take care of him when he was sick, cuddled him and whispered positive comments to him as they dozed off. He’d help him through his dysphoria and assure him in everything and anything, always there for him.

Until he wasn’t.

Henry’s lips on his pulled him back to reality.

He was there for him now.

Grant kissed him back enthusiastically, Henry’s arm wrapping around his back and tugging him closer. Minutes that felt like hours ticked by. It was wondrous. It was theirs. Henry pressed further into the kiss, the two of them practically one being. It felt so perfect. Henry always was perfect, so delightful.

Warm. Like home.

Grant felt like he was at home, but there was a huge lock in the door, sealing out the more exciting woods in the backyard, ignored but ever present.

Grant felt at home, but he could also feel the person looking sadly through the back window at his bliss, unable to join. He wished he could remove the lock.

But Henry held the key.

* * *

“You bastard!” Joey exclaimed in anger, but quickly calmed himself, not wanting a repeat of their previous fight. He instead glared at the man looking at him emotionlessly. “You cannot just come back and think I’ll give you time off! Go and do your work, Stein.”

“What are you gonna do about it if I don’t?” Henry asked in a taunt. Joey cocked an eyebrow. “You won’t do-”

“Would you like to lose your job?”

“You wouldn’t!” he sputted. He stared with huge eyes. “You wouldn’t dare! You son of a bitch!”

“This son of a bitch can and will fire you, if you assume you can just take liberties again!” Joey snarled. “You blew it, Henry! You left this company, and I can’t trust you anymore!”

“Son of a bitch!”

“You got that right!”

“You’re a son of a bitch!”

“Yes, I know,” Joey stood, smiling. A wild laugh rang from the vent, Eska’s cackles reaching them. Joey’s grin broadened, even as Henry shuddered, staring at him with a look of pure terror. “Now, go do your job.”

“Son of a bitch!”

“Henry, I swear to god, if you say that word one more time, I will dock your pay, and possibly kill you.”

“SON OF A FEMALE DOG, THEN!”

“... inventive.”

“Murder?” Eska inquired, poking his head out of the vent. Joey gently pushed him back into the vent. “Murder of Henry?”

“No.” Joey calmly told him. Eska pouted, then went to talk about the killing of others with Kim or Niamh. “Now, Henry, just, go, do your job, and then maybe. Just maybe. You will get a week off. After animations. Are. Done.”

“Puppy.”

Joey stared at him as he tramped out of the office.

He rolled his eyes, and even chuckled a little.

Henry had a way of bitching like no one else did.

 

* * *

 

The silence slowly ate at both of them, both picking at the food on their plates, the seventh uneaten meal for Joey. In a row. He simply no longer found food tasteful. Grant, on the other hand, constantly glanced up at him, wondering if he should admit he still wanted him. Quiet formed a deep pressure on both of their chests.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing spoken. Grant’s head lifted suddenly. Joey fidgeted with his hand, trembling. “I’m really sorry, Grant.”

“Sorry for what?” the mystified accountant asked, confused and then shocked at the tears streaming down Joey’s face. He leapt up, rushing to the man’s side. “Joey, are you alright? Joey? Johan! Please, answer me….”

“I raped you.” His voice was distraught and distant, his face was miserable, his body shook, and his hands trembled. “I’m so sorry Grant, please forgive me…” he stood from his chair, then fell to his knees, still almost at level with Grant. “I’m so sorry, please, I raped you, find it in your heart to forgive me…. I know I’m not a good person, but I can’t bear knowing I raped you and never asked forgiveness… please forgive me, Grant.”

“Raped me?” Grant gawked, wracking his mind for when this could have happened, finding no occurrence. Joey nodded wretchedly. “Can you tell me when this happened?”

“The first time,” he whispered. “I was choking you on the floor, of course you would have saved yourself in any way that you could have… I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t rape me,” Grant denied, studying him desperately. “How can you say that?”

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, holding Grant’s hands to his heart. “I’m so so sorry, please, forgive me….”

“Joey, you never raped me, I wanted it, I got you mad on purpose,” Grant insisted, making him look up at him. “Joey, you know that if you did, I wouldn’t’ve let you move in with me in the first. I can’t forgive you for something that you never did. Please… Johan, say that you didn’t rape me.”

He couldn’t.

He stared up at Grant with broken eyes, shaking, lips parted, tears flooding his cheeks.

“Grant…” he lowered his head, burning red in shame. “I… I need to go.”

He shakily stood, walking to the piano in the living roo-  _Grant’s_ living room, kneeling beside it and beginning to pray. Grant stared at him.

“Since… since when did you pray?”

“... few days.”

A silence reformed between them. Grant stirred.

“Is it because of Henry?”

“He is a factor, but not solely him.”

“Ah. What are you praying to, exactly?”

Joey shrugged. Grant blinked.

“You don’t know?”

“Do you?”

Grant couldn’t answer.

 

* * *

 

Grant was a very demanding man. He wasn’t always demanding, but when it came to how he felt, he found that with Joey around, every whim was tended to. Henry was not always as accommodating, seeing as some of the things Grant wanted were not aligned with what Henry wanted.

Like being choked.

Grant blushed in his seat in his office, glancing around to be certain no one was around. God, he was so desperate. His stomach was warm and his body was tense. He groaned. Work would not end fast enough. Maybe he could go to Joey and piss him off… but Joey refused to touch him.

Oh god, imagining Joey making him pleasure himself and dictating what to do in low, smooth, and bitter orders made fire lash through his body.

But he knew he wouldn't. He knew Joey wouldn’t even meet his eyes. He knew Joey swore himself off of Grant since Henry came back. He knew Joey would never dare touch a man that wasn’t his. Grant sighed. It would have to be Henry, and if it were Henry, he wouldn’t get what he really wanted. It was better than nothing.

He didn’t notice the intruders as he stared at his desk, bright red and trying to ignore the pit in his stomach.

“Mr. Cohen, you’re needed upstairs,” Johnny snickered, jolting him out of his not work appropriate thoughts, Shawn beside him, the Irishman smirking. “For ‘animation’, quote unquote Henry Stein.”

“Alright,” Grant huffed, mantling scarlet all over his neck, ears, and face, getting up to go with the organist and toymaker. “How is Daniella, Johnny?”

The man shot him a primal look of fear, Shawn glaring at Johnny angrily at the mention of his sister.

“She’s wonderful, thanks,” he answered quietly, shoved back to his place. “We’re doing good.”

“Alright Mr. Doe,” Grant rolled his eyes. They quickly made their way upstairs and froze at the sound of yelling. “Is that… Henry? And Joey?”

Unfortunately, it was.

“Why the hell are you doing this to me!?” Joey shrieked, bright red. Henry glared at him. “Don’t give me bullshit, Stein! I can’t dance with him, he’s  _your_ boyfriend!”

“If it were up to me, I’d definitely have you as far away from him as possible!” Henry shouted, coloring in anger. Joey blinked, confusion written all over his face. “But  _nooo_ , the script calls for young Alice and Boris. The only people around here with that specific height difference is you and Grant!”

“Change the script, then,” was the cold and flat reply. Henry shook his head. “Don’t tell me they already did the voice acting, so all you need to do is the v-sync….”

Henry nodded sullenly. Joey swore quietly.

Grant awkwardly cleared his throat.

Both men looked up at him with love and admiration.

His heart jumped to his throat.

Joey glanced at Henry, his adoration vanishing, replaced by a blank mask.

Grant hated it.

Joey smiled, a false, tight smile.

“Thank you for coming up, Gr- Mr. Cohen,” his smile faltered as he stuttered. He walked over to him under Henry’s blazing gaze. “Uh, as you may know, we need a model for a young Alice An-Angel,” he swallowed down a blush, “And you and I are the only people with the right heights. So, may I have this dance?”

Grant hesitated looking over at Henry. The animator stiffly nodded. He slowly copied the motion. Joey’s smile weakened, then became taut.

“Norman, if you please,” Joey called, the projectionist flashing a thumbs up, indicating he was ready when they were. Joey slipped off his jacket, revealing more slender limbs than masked with the extra fabrics. He extended a trembling hand to Grant. He took it, feeling the tenseness in his fingers alone. “Now, Mr. Cohen, nothing more than the script. Sammy’s going to be telling us what to do.”

The reel started, and they began a slow, sweeping dance.

“You do this often?” Grant teased, watching Joey blush. Joey nodded minutely. Grant hadn’t realized that Joey was an excellent dancer. Their relationship had been rather restricted to the bedroom, restrained to the mattress by Grant. Now he was curious. “What do you normally dance?”

“I figure skate,” he murmured. Grant swept his eyes over his body approvingly. They got a little closer. “Haven’t been able to go in a long time, though….”

“I’m sure you’d still be wonderful,” Grant assured him with a grin, which Joey shakily returned. They got nearer to one another. Henry shifted uncomfortably next to Sammy. Joey shrugged. Grant smiled at him. “Believe me, you would be.”

“Someone stop ‘em,” Jack muttered. “If they keep goin’ they’re gonna end up kissing. Not in my music department, no siree.”

“ _My_ music department, Mr. Fain,” Sammy growled jokingly at his best friend under his breath. “But yeah, this is kiss build up a hundred percent. Though, honestly, if they are gonna kiss, I don’t think Mr. Drew knows.”

It was true. Grant was the one moving closer to Joey, his hand was the one moving from Joey’s shoulder to the back of his neck, his breath was the one becoming irregular. Joey merely moved to the music with fluttering movements, closed eyes, and a soft smile. Grant leaned towards him, eyes half lidded and cloudy. Then they widened in shock. His motion became stiffer, and Joey looked at him with concern tilting his head in that oh so adorable ‘take my lips’ expression.

‘Do something, dammit!’ Grant’s mind shouted. ‘Otherwise you’ll end up on the floor with him now and with an angry  _and_ jealous Henry later! Do something,  _anything_!’

Even Grant was shocked at the slap that resounded, Joey’s head making a dull thud against the wall after he backhanded him. Blood trickled out of his nose, and he now had a dazed expression, until his hand touched his lip, drawing away with blood. Joey froze, staring at his hand in horror. Henry moved away from the wall sharply, gawking with a slight fear. Joey shook where he stood with terrified eyes. Henry slowly approached him like one might come near a frightened animal.

“It’s alright,” he reassured in low calming tones. Joey stared at him in fear, backing away. “Joey, keep your eyes on me. That’s right. Keep looking at me. Put your hand down. At me, Joey, over here.”

“Am… am I bleeding?” he asked in a horrified, echoing voice, his blood staining his shirt red. Henry simply told him to look at him again. Joey’s shaking slowed. Grant swallowed. He had never seen Joey like this before, but Henry clearly had, and enough times to know how to calm him. Joey’s voice was distressed when he spoke again. “Henry, where are you?”

“Right here,” he soothed, putting his wrist against his hand. Lithe fingers quickly wrapped around it. Joey groaned in terror. “Johan, listen to me, can you count to twelve by threes?”

“Three six nine twelve,” he whimpered, but calmed. “My name is Johan R- Drew. Drew, right?”

“Mhmm,” Henry affirmed. “Where are you?”

“At the Ramir… no, no, I’m in the studio, at Joey Drew Studios,” he smiled shakily. “I’m with Henry Stein. At an animation studio.”

“Correct,” he smiled back, relieved. “Can you tell me who I and the other people in the room are? One at a time.”

“Sammy Lawrence,” Joey pointed, Henry nodding, “Music director and a grade A bear,” Sammy choked on his water, “Norman Polk, projectionist and infamous fucker of Bertrum’s father,” Norman chuckled, “ Jack Fain, lyricist with the best damn hat I’ve ever seen,” Jack bowed, “Grant Cohen, accountant and… means… a lot… to me…” Grant swallowed, Henry stiffening, but he shrugged it off, “And you’re Henry Stein.”

He smiled at him.

“An animator and… well. You’re Henry. Not much else to say.”

“Welcome back to earth Joey,” Henry chuckled softly, Joey relaxing and exhaling. Their temples touched gently as they sat down, leaning against the wall. Any and all dispute they may have had vanished, Their fingers had interwoven, and all was peaceful. Henry snickered, nudging him playfully. “You’re still a son of a bitch, though.”

“With my parents, who wouldn’t be?” he asked with a weak lopsided grin and a shuddering laugh. He looked exhausted. There was a silence. A junior animator tapped Sammy’s shoulder, whispering a question. Sammy shook his head. Joey flinched as he noted the animator eyeing the rainbow heart pin on his suit. He blushed, pulling on the jacket, pointedly ignoring the blood on his shirt. “Am… am I still bleeding, Henry…?”

“Just give me a sec,” the animator pulled a tissue out of his pocket, grabbing someone’s water bottle and pouring it over, then gingerly wiped Joey’s face, careful to keep the reddened tissue out of his boss’ sight. “There. It’s all… g-gone.”

“Is something wrong?” Joey questioned, concerned. Grant paled. Joey touched where Grant slapped him. A bright red handprint shone on his face. “Is… is it bad?”

“Yeah,” Grant recoiled from his action. “It is. I’m sorry I hit you.”

“Oh, no worries, I’m sure I overstepped your boundaries or something of the sort,” Joey laughed nervously. His lips opened to say something, but seamed shut, choosing another phrase. “I hope you can forgive me.”

Joey quickly left before Grant could affirm or reject.

Guilt flooded Grant, but not as much as need overpowered him as he smelled Henry as he passed.

He went to his office, locking the door and waiting.

It was a long day, and he could hardly wait for it to end. He immediately rushed to Henry, dragging him home, shoving him against the door as he fumbled to open it while kissing his neck. They tumbled in, Grant landing on top of Henry. He quickly rolled over so Grant was beneath him and he attacked his lips with bites and kisses. Grant gripped Henry’s hips.

“Needy today, aren't cha?” Henry teased. Grant growled, shoving him back to his lips. “Oof! Damn, you’re pretty damn feisty right now. Maybe dancing is good for you?”

“Henry, hush.”

“Are you feeling guilty?”

“Shut up, Henry, and fuck me,” Grant ordered, flushing in anger and guilt. Henry rose an eyebrow, lifting him up and carrying him to his room. He pressed him to the bed, kissing him and pinning his body to the sheets. Grant groaned, his hips shifting against Henry’s. “Jo- Just right there.”

“Grant, babe, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” he remarked through gritted teeth, worried Henry had caught his slip up. He rolled against him, whimpering. He needed more. More than friction, more than motion. He needed to be punished for hitting Joey and not forgiving the man for being so fuckable. He grasped Henry’s hands, pulling them to his throat with a whine. Henry winced. Grant sighed. He knew it. “It’s alright, Hen, you don’t have to.”

“We could, you know,” he traced Grant’s lips with gentle fingers, “ _compromise_.”

Grant chuckled, a half giggle, half moaning, chuckle. He quickly sat up with Henry, then trailed kisses down the stronger man’s chest, his hand on his belt. Henry watched him greedily. All clothes and guilt were lost in an instant, Grant’s mind on the fritz, the constant OCD stream of numbers silenced. Henry’s noises and the dull pain (but mostly pleasure) in the back of his throat were all he could focus on.

He still needed more though.

The cutting off of air in his mouth wasn’t enough.

He needed external pressure.

Henry would not give it to him.

He ignored the waves of desire spilling into every limb, putting his thoughts on Henry.

The way his face flushed only on the cheeks.

The lustful way his eyes flashed.

His hands tangled in his hair, holding him right where he wanted him.

Not Joey.

 _Shit_.

Grant found, later on, while he stared at the ceiling and Henry slept, that he couldn’t decide.

* * *

Grant over the weekend was a mess. Henry was catching up with other members of the studio, even Bertrum  _slightly_ removing his hatred of him, bearing to be in the same room with him for five entire minutes!

Back to Grant.

He was in the house he still shared with Joey, the man on a grocery and other home needs run. Grant, hung up on love and his sex drive through the roof, could only think of Joey. His tan skin and his soft eyes, his long calloused fingers and pointed features, beautiful and handsome at once. His lofty and graceful height and the way he moved to accommodate Grant.

The way he simply listened to every order, fulfilled every demand, and granted Grant’s every whim.

Worshipfully.

Grant groaned, tilting his head back, his back arching. He trembled lightly, quickly getting up and heading to his room, slipping a hand into his pants, the other shakily tugging on his tie. He tightened it slowly, just as slowly as he toyed with himself.

He bit his lip and gasped, thinking of Joey, the defamations and dirty words he’d mutter into Grant’s ears playing loudly in his head. He moaned, cutting it off with a tug on the makeshift collar, restricting his airflow even more. He jerked onto his fingers, and hated how different they were to Joey’s. Joey’s were slim and long, seemingly with more joints than should be, but knew how to work them excellently. Grant was also out of practice, Joey always tending to him, making it unnecessary for him to do anything with his hands aside grip Joey’s shoulders and hair.

He whispered the man’s name feverishly, once, and found he couldn’t stop, getting louder as his throat was more constricted and his fingers grew slicker.

He wanted him, he desired him, he lusted for him, he  _needed_ him.

He needed air, too.

He choked, the tie far too  _tight_.

Shit, he was not paying attention to  _ **that**_!

Fuck fuck fuck, his hand jolted out of him to claw at the suffocating object, unable to remove it.

Blackness pulsed at the edge of his vision, his mouth open and finding it impossible to pull in any air.

He wheezed, regret welling up in his body.

The door closed quietly beneath him.

He could not figure anything out, his brain muddled and the internal timer in his head slowing as pressure built higher and higher in his chest.

“ _Gr_ - _Grant_?” the voice seemed so far away….

The last thought he had before blacking out was that he would implode.

 

* * *

 

Joey touched Grant’s door, pressing his forehead to it before passing on. Return was instantaneous, a horrible sinking feeling burning in his barely held together heart. Something was terribly wrong, he just knew it.

“Gr-Grant?” he called, knocking and putting his ear to the door. No reply. He sighed, and was about to pull back when he recognized the sound, like a choking fish. His brow furrowed, and then a look of pure horror took over his face, he bursting through the door with a wild expression, terrified. “Grant!”

He ran over to Grant, tearing the tie off of him, recoiling at his cooling hands and blue lips. Grant, still unconscious, sucked air in falteringly, Joey shaking in fear. Joey quickly removed the other’s shirt, pulling off the binder beneath it carefully, then began raising and lowering Grant’s arms, like he had learned to do. Grant’s breathing slowly returned to a normal rate. Joey felt wetness on his face. He didn’t dare reach to touch the tears he knew were flowing down his face. He couldn’t control his own breathing anymore, and he pulled Grant toward himself, lifting him tenderly off the bed and rushing to bathe him in warm water and relax his body, then dressing him and holding him as he wept.

This was all Joey’s fault.

He never should have touched Grant.

Tears streamed down his face as he pulled him closer.

He never should have kissed him.

A sob wracked his body, and he kissed his forehead.

He never should have said his name.

“Grant,” he moaned, tormented. “My darling, my beautiful, Grant, Grant, why…?”

He knew why.

It was all his fault.

Grant’s eyes unpried themselves. Limber arms were wrapped around him gently. The person holding him shook. His neck felt raw.

Whimpers and sobs escaped Joey.

He looked beautiful even in his tears, the light softly glowing around him, haloing him.

Grant’s own devilish angel.

Grant’s hand flew to the back of Joey’s neck, yanking him down into a kiss, deep and breathy.

Joey froze, and instantly pushed him back onto the bed.

“Joey,” Grant said, sitting up again, pulling him back to his lips. Joey stood sharply and backed away. Grant got up shakily, Joey uneasily looking at him with concern. Grant stumbled over to him and attempted to grab him down onto himself. Joey frowned uncomfortably, taking his hands and dragging him back to his bed, lifting him onto it carefully and tucking the blankets around him softly, but tight on the bed. “Joey, I… Joey, please.”

“Do you need water? Something to eat?” Joey struggled to keep his voice pleasant, fear chipping away at it. His maske broke, sadness and torment evident on his face. “Grant… Grant, you nearly died. Grant, you were blue and cold, I thought you  _died_ , do you understand? What were you thinking?”

“I-” he began, finding talking hard, he motioned for water. Joey briskly left the room, returning with a chickadee mug, Grant’s favorite. He drank gratefully, licking his lips and setting down the cup,  “-was thinking about you, Joey,” he admitted. He smirked at Joey’s shocked eyes. “You should have seen how wet I was….”

“I did,” Joey flatly replied, his face and voice devoid of emotion, the mask returned. “If you didn’t see, you are wearing your pajamas. I took c-care of you, Grant, I washed you up and changed you, but nothing more, Grant. Please, for both of our sakes, put the thought of a ‘we’ out of your mind. ‘We’ is through. You can’t keep doing this to us. You’re with Henry, Grant. Please, never do this again. Never choke yourself, it’s foolish and dangerous, and never think of me in that light again. You are my employee, my friend, but nothing else.”

“Oh, but you’re so much more to me,” Grant breathed, looking at him with half lidded eyes. “You’re the one I want, you, Joey. Henry can go fuck himself.”

“Grant, do you remember the incident we had the last time you said that to me?” Joey’s rhetoric question made Grant’s cheeks blaze. It was when they had been together for a week, and he left Joey at two AM to go Henry. Joey was the first and only person Grant had ever cheated on, and he suspected Joey would just get angry, which would be good for Grant. He didn’t realize how much it hurt him. He knew now, and swallowed roughly. “You promised me then you’ll never cheat again.”

“Cheat on you,” Grant corrected, Joey’s mouth snapping shut. “I said I’d be with  _you_ and not cheat on  _you_ , Johan. Now, get your ass over here and kiss me.”

Joey shook his head, though he was already at his bedside after handing him his drink. Grant’s hands pulled him down and he kissed him harshly. Joey tried to get away, but Grant’s steady hands held him firmly in place, so he became limp. Grant frowned, looking at him in confusion.

“Why won’t you kiss me back?” he asked hopelessly, examining him bitterly, his eye resting on the outline of the smack on his cheek. He shoved the guilt to the back of his mind, returning on confronting Joey. “Am I not good enough for you anymore? Are you fucking Johnny again?”

“First off, I never fucked Johnny, he fucked me without asking, and only once,” Joey flushed at the mention of fucking anyone. “Secondly, Grant, you’re too good for me. Thirdly, you’re not mine. End of story.”

He left to bring him food, and said nothing else, but Grant suspected that he sat outside his door, as he would immediately reply to his every call and demand.

Just like he used to.

Except now he refused to look him in the eye. Grant tossed and turned until he finally let himself fall asleep with racing thoughts, Joey’s troubled whistling lulling him to rest.

Joey was in the kitchen when Grant stumbled up. A coffee was beside him, yet it was undrunk and cold, as was some toast, cold and untouched. Joey was asleep, slumped in the chair. Grant could tell Henry had been in last night by the scotch left on the counter, Joey always preferring wine.

Grant wrapped his arms around Joey’s shoulders, kissing the back of his neck. Joey slowly stirred to life, instantly stiffening at the touch.

“What was Henry doing here?” Grant dangerously purred in his ear. Goosebumps broke out over Joey’s arms, his hair prickling. Grant’s hand traced his lapel. “I thought that you didn’t like him anymore.”

“I was explaining what happened. He deserves to know. He  _is_ your boyfriend.”

“Is he now? Well,  _you’re_ my lover.”

Joey froze, and was about to stand sharply when Grant swung his leg to straddle him (missing the other leg so he was sat on Joey’s thigh), watching maroon flood Joey’s cheeks rapidly. He leaned to kiss him, but he turned his head away. Grant gripped his arms tightly.

“Why won’t you kiss me!?”

“I told you yesterday,” Joey blankly answered. “You’re Henry’s, not mine.”

“I want you!” Grant exploded. Joey stood on the chair, slipping back. Grant threw off his dress shirt, knowing Joey was warily watching his every move. He stormed over to Joey, yanking him down to his lips, forcing his tongue into his mouth, tasting coffee and ink, hoping for Joey to reciprocate. Instead Joey became limp once more, as he had been the previous night. Grant pulled back and scowled. “React, damn you!”

“I don’t need to be more damned than I am already,” Joey replied coolly. Grant felt angry tears burst in his eyes. Joey winced, “I care about you, Grant, and doing this just makes it worse for both of us.”

Grant stared at him with a look of betrayal, then shoved Joey to the wall and stormed out, instantly rushing back, the need for Joey burning a hole in his stomach.

Joey let out a yelp as Grant crashed into him, and held in a bubbling screech as Grant rubbed his body against his own with moans and other sounds of pleasure. Joey pushed him back.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he demanded in a hushed whisper, his arms straining against his shoulders. “You nearly died yesterday from this, you you you, you have a  **boyfriend** , what are you doing!?”

“Want you,” Grant breathed. Joey paled and shook his head adagio. Grant moved back to his body, pressing his neck against Joey’s chest, looking up at him as his breath hitched. “Joey, I want your hands around my neck, I want your voice in my ear, I want you in me, I want you, Johan.”

“Grant, stop, you have Henry,” Joey rebutted. “You nearly killed yourself, Grant, if I came home three minutes later than I did, you’d be dead! Do you not understand that? Grant, I would’ve died if you killed yourself, intentionally or not!”

“Don’t care right now,” he hummed, wrapping his arms around Joey’s neck, pulling him down and striving to kiss him, Joey recoiling and keeping him down. Grant whined, “Joey, please, I want you, give me you, Joeeey!”

“Shh, Mr. Cohen, no, you are not mine. You are Henry’s. It’s not right.”

“Then let’s be wrong!”

“There are consequences to these things!”

“Then punish me! Make me feel how I should for doing this.”

“No!”

“Joey, I’ll send copies of the pictures from the twelfth to everyone if you don’t,” Grant warned, Joey’s paled face blushing madly. “Now get your ass over here.”

Joey straightened his back and lifted his head, dusting off his suit.

“I believe that there goes my reputation.”

“Damn it!”

Grant grabbed his hands, placing them on his neck, looking up at him beseechingly. Joey’s shoulders slumped.

“Grant, enough is enough.”

“Joey, please.”

“No.”

“Joey, I’ll do it myself again, but this time I’ll lock the door. Good luck explaining what happened this time.”

Joey’s already blanched face became paler. He looked toward the heavens, and murmured, “Oh, save my soul.”

His fingers tightened around Grant’s raw neck.

 

* * *

 

Grant lost track of how many times he had been pushed to completion.

He got off from everything about Joey, his hands (around his neck), his voice (hissing defamations in his ear), his eyes (looking down at him like divine justice), his legs (holding him in place and steady), his hips (rocking him and feeling so  _right_ ), him him him him Joey (ohh,  _Joey_ ).

His body continuously demanded more, but after he came down from this high from Joey’s tongue,  _oh **God** , his  **tongue**_ , he found himself relaxing.

He smiled, in a haze of contentedness and pulled Joey up from between his legs, kissing him roughly and passionately, tasting himself on Joey’s lips, hips rubbing against each other.

Joey had yet to release once.

Grant frowned, knowing Joey’s conscience was preventing him from fully enjoying himself. Grant rolled them over to be on top, taking him in quickly. Joey whimpered, and Grant moved his hips slowly.

Joey looked up at him in worshiping adoration.

Grant grinned at him, and Joey held in a moan.

Grant kissed him gently, trailing up his cheek to his ear, knowing exactly what to do to dissolve him.

“Joey.” he whispered. “I love you.”

Joey arched, sobbed Grant’s name, and broke, giving everything he ever had to Grant.

 

* * *

 

Henry glared at them. Joey wanted to melt into a puddle of acetone. Grant stared back at him defiantly.

Henry marched over to them, and in a loud, angered voice, growled, “You two had sex last night, didn’t you?”

Joey paled faster than ink bled down a page.

“It’s my fault,” he mumbled, a blush concentrating on his cheeks. Henry looked amused by this statement. “Really, I should have left when you came back.”

“Cut the crap, Drew, you’re a terrible liar, and I know it’s not your fault at all.” Henry huffed a laugh, then swiveled to bore holes into Grant with his eyes. “I know that Grant was the one who insisted it.”

“Why do you care,” Grant asked sharply. “Who knows who you got with while you were gone. It’s only fair that now I can do what I want.”

“Oh, and cheating is something that’s okay now, is it?” Henry rose an eyebrow. Joey squirmed where he stood. Grant scowled, looking at him. “You, if anything, coerced Joey. I mean, look at his face, man! He’s going to burn through his skin if he keeps blushing like that! He’s embarrassed and guilty, and you can read it plain as day.”

“Don’t… Henry….” Joey winced, but smiled waveringly, nervously. “You can read me like a book, but you don’t have to do it aloud.”

“Joey, do you honestly, answer clearly, do you still like me?” Henry suddenly inquired. Joey stared at him and seemed to explode on the inside. “Johan, do you still have a romantic interest in me?”

He laughed, a high, terrified, shook laugh.

“I, I, uh, I mean,” he bumbled over his words, tan skin tone blazing maroon. “I… am… I am very gay. And. Uh… I never, um, got over you.”

“What do you say to a date at seven?” Henry grinned cheekily. Joey looked like he died and went somewhere awesome, yet ‘awesome’ in the positive or negative was not yet known. “Me and you.”

“You?! Want… me?” Joey’s voice was strained and incredulous. He rose both his hands, anxiety filling his heart and lungs. “Hold on, hear me fully, you, Henry Stein, who rejected me for a woman - I’m just stating the facts - and rejected me a second time for Grant when she dumped you, you, Henry, want to go on a date… with… me? Heh, I mean, like, you’re Henry Stein, a successful animator in medical school, and all I am is Johan the fucking idiot and pathological liar Ramirez. Do… are you serious? Or is this just some sort of twisted revenge scheme.”

“A bit of both,” Henry answered, amused. “But I’d have no issues with it developing further.”

“What the  _ **fuck**_?!” Grant shouted, no longer able to contain himself. “You’re  **my** boyfriend, and Joey is  _mine_!”

“Let him decide,” Henry smirked. “Joey is his own person, and consider us through for now, at least.”

“I… need a second.” Joey bit his lip, glancing at the shocked and enraged Grant. “I’ll… be right back.”

He left the two to finish breaking up over  _him_.

Bertrum’s door flew open, Joey stumbling into the greek - but english accented - man.

“Woah there, Mr. Drew,” he huffed, setting him on his feet. “What’s gotten you so ruffled?”

“That’s what I’ve come to ask about,” Joey laughed hysterically. “Henry broke up with Grant because Grant made me have… made me have sex with him last night, and now Henry wants to know if I want to go on a date with him! Grant’s pissed and wants to keep me as a lover, but I’m scared that’ll ruin how things are with Henry right now, and the last time Grant used me as a lover ended with him dumping me in an instant! What do I do?! Grant or Henry?! Or neither?! I’m so confused, Bertrum, I can’t think!”

“Breathe, Joey!” Bertrum barked. The man straightened up instantly. “Alright, so… who do you want, out of both of them? Or neither.”

“I…” Joey sucked in air, looking at the ceiling. “Grant is… Grant is passionate. Exciting. Overwhelming at times and somewhat demanding. Henry is… an old heartthrob. A dear and deeply loved friend, and I always… always loved him with all, or almost all, my heart. But he’s spiteful and arrogant. I… want them both to be happy.”

Big bulbous tears began dripping down his face.

“But by whatever is out there and over us, I, for the first time in my life, want to be happy too. I want to feel loved and cared for, not just me being loving and caring. I’m scared, I’ll admit it, that neither of them would truly care about or really love me. To Henry it’s about revenge and to Grant it’s about his body. Neither are asking me what this is about. To me, I just want to be happy. I just wanna be happy… Sólo quiero ser feliz….”

Bertrum took Joey up in his arms, an awkwardly angled hug, all off but feeling comforting and protective. Joey shook and trembled, but Bertrum gently hugged him.

“Who do you think might help get you happy?”

“... I don’t know.”

“Maybe try Henry. Just try. If he hurts you, I’ll tear him apart. Got it Joey? But it is your choice.”

“I’ll… I want him and I to work out,” Joey admitted. “At the same time, I want me and Grant to work out. I l-love them both, I want them both, and I can’t decide which to pick. On one hand I could just. Pick neither. On the other I pick one. But I need to start somewhere…. Okay, I’m trying Henry, because then if it goes wrong I can ask Grant if he’ll take me back, and he probably would just to spite Henry.”

“Sounds alright, and I’m sure things will be fine,” Bertrum sighed. “Don’t hesitate to come to me if anything bad happens or if something goes wrong.”

“Will do, Bertrum,” Joey smiled worriedly, rubbing his arms. Bertrum eyed his thin frame with some unease. “Is… is something the matter?”

“Joey, I need to ask you something else…” Bertrum exhaled, long and slow. “When and what was the last thing you have eaten? Excluding liquids.”

“Cof-” he cut himself off from listing the dirty bean water, listing off into silence when he was unable to produce an answer. He looked at the floor. “I don’t… uh. I don’t remember. Must’ve been, um… around a week?”

“Let’s get you some food in your system,” Bertrum encouragingly smiled. “You don’t want to vomit on your first date, now, would you?”

“Knowing me, that’s bound to happen whether I have something tangible in me or not,” Joey shrugged at Bertrum’s parental glare. “What do you say I should eat?”

Joey threw up the sandwich.

But not the orange.

The food became easier to eat in increments.

Seven o’clock, a date, a date between himself and Henry (Henry!), was established.

Joey was excited, but he laid down to rule of nothing too sudden, and he hoped that would allow he and Henry to get to know one another. They, in truth, knew each other fairly well, but not so intimately as a ‘romance’. Even if it was possible to call this trust fall game as ‘romance’ at all. They knew some of each other's quirks, habits, and fantasies, but nothing close in a bond of anything more than best friends. Best friends socially.

Could Henry even reciprocate Joey’s romantic feelings towards him? Was that even possible? Joey did not have much faith in this, but before he set out from his home, he prayed. He was praying to something, he knew that much, and he was putting his trust into a higher (or lower) being. He was beginning to figure it out each time he knelt, but never fully. He’d find out one day or another. He relaxed, hands still clasped together.

Arms wrapped around him from behind, a face pressing to the back of his head.

Grant rocked with him a little, then sighed.

“Pray for me, too, because whatever the hell you’re doing seems to be working.”

Joey hesitantly nodded. Grant smiled a tiny bit, tears in the back of his eyes, barely visible but there. Joey prayed that none of them would look like that in the end of it all.

He stood, and walked out into the crisp fall evening air, and he beamed, and ran.

Joey didn’t know why he was running, but he suspected it had something to do with his pounding heart and giddy grin.

Henry! The Henry Stein! Asked him, Joey Drew, out on a date!

The very date he was spinning to attend!

He laughed, aloud and unashamed.

His pride heart pin shone on his chest, and in the sidewalk’s lamplight it glowed more than the sun ever could.

Henry was waiting outside the place they chose, also having departed early in his own anticipation (it was 6:45). Joey laughed and crashed into the man with a gleeful shout of his name, engulfing him in his arms and spinning round with him in a tight, happy embrace.

“And you’re the one that said nothing too sudden,” Henry teased when he was set down. Joey blushed and mumbled something about getting carried away by his excitement. “Well, alright, but settle down, Johan, because I’d like to talk with you, not at you, you get me?”

“Absolutely,” Joey agreed. Henry outstretched his arm, which Joey eagerly took, and though their heights were significantly split (nearly two feet), it felt entirely natural. Henry ordered a hamburger, and it was so absurdly  _Henry_ that Joey laughed. Henry laughed the same when he ordered spaghetti and meatballs. When they were seated, Joey asked him; “Why’d you laugh at my choice in food? I laughed at yours because it’s just so you, to go to an upscale restaurant just to get a hamburger, since no one has your favorite bacon soup. But why mine?”

“You’ve always been a hopeless romantic,” Henry chuckled, taking off his jacket. “Even subconsciously. You automatically chose the most ‘romantic’ food you could.”

“I guess that’s true,” Joey blushed, smiling behind his hand. “Then again, it just seems… appetizing, and I’m pretty hungry for once.”

“Joey Drew is hungry? A miracle!” Henry laughed. Joey giggled, rolling his eyes. “God, you’re precious.”

Joey stared at him, a surprised blush flowing over his cheeks.

“I believe you must be mistaken,” he said softly, looking down at the table. “I’m just… me.”

“Adorable,” Henry continued, smirking at Joey hiding his face in his hands. “Cute. Sweet.”

“Noooo,” Joey squeaked, blushing. “Hhhhhenry nooooo….”

“Here is your food, sirs,” the waiter grinned down at them, “And the chef sends a bottle of wine on the house, with wishes of luck.”

“Many thanks,” Joey mumbled, blushing furiously. Henry chuckled, winking at the waiter, who smiled back. “Henry, you truly know precisely how to make me embarrassed.”

“Anything makes you embarrassed,” Henry jokingly grumbled. Joey smiled toward his food, and quietly began eating as his thoughts swirled around him, Henry studying and reading him with a practiced ease. “You’re thinking about growing old, but with whom is the question, eh?”

“Henry, you always know what I’m thinking,” Joey sighed, smiling wistfully. “Can’t you see the answer?”

Henry gazed at him, his grin fading.

“Joey….”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, maybe, but put him out of your head for now,” Henry soothed, his voice drawing Joey to relax. “Tonight, it’s just you and me, you know.”

Henry’s hand rested over Joey’s, and he looked into his maroonish amber eyes with his grassed teal. He smiled, and the man opposite him returned the gesture waveringly.

Henry picked up his food, and ate some, Joey watching him carefully, knowing he was staring, tearing his gaze away only for it to return to the animator.

“Do you still dream in black and white?” Henry asked, simply wanting to initiate conversation. Joey perked up. “Like you used to.”

“Sometimes there are splashes of color,” Joey hummed, forking his own spaghetti, Henry holding back a laugh as he missed a meatball. “But mostly black and white still. How are your dreams? Still with that eerie music?”

“Always, it’s like a curse,” Henry rolled his eyes. “Open the door, suddenly ominous music starts playing. It’s always there, like a soundtrack or something.”

“How about your wishes in amour?” Joey was the one to chuckle at Henry’s flushing face. “Are you still hoping someone will slip into the shower after you?”

“Joey, shush,” Henry rebuked, throwing a pickle at him, which he dodged with a laugh. “But yes… god, I mean, it just seems so appealing. Just trust and care.”

“It does sound really nice,” Joey acknowledged. “Like, being in your most vulnerable state, but accepting another’s company… it’s wild, to me… sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I know that you adore being the little spoon,” Henry tapped his knuckled. “Even though you’re so tall.”

“Oof, right on the nerve,” Joey beamed, unable to conceal his happiness and his delight that Henry  _remembered_ that. “Maybe we can one day help with each other’s dreams and make them come true. By the by, how are custody arrangements with Linda going? Is Diane still fighting to keep her?”

“Yeah, it’s hell,” Henry groaned, rubbing his forehead. “And Linda clearly wants it to be split custody, so she can see both of us. For a seven year old, she sure knows what she wants.”

“How would she like more parents?” Joey smiled softly. Henry pondered. “This has been going on for about two years now, she knows you’ve been dating other people.”

“She’d probably take it well,” Henry exhaled, just thinking about all the court laws surrounding his daughter exhausting him. He reached over to Joey with an amused expression. “You got some sauce on your cheek.”

He wiped it with his thumb, his hand still remaining on Joey’s cheek. Joey sighed happily, his eyes fluttering shut. The slap Grant had given Joey was still faintly visible, Henry’s fingers gently tracing it. His thumb softly stroked his cheek, and he leaned over the table to the man, his eyes half lidded, and he closed them to close the gap. A pressure on his lips stopped him. He opened his eyes, Joey smiling at him, one lithe finger on Henry’s mouth.

“Not yet,” Joey instructed in a soft tone. Henry smiled at him and shrugged, The ate, making small talk here and there. Joey paid, and they stepped out into the night together, Joey walking Henry home. “Thank you for taking me out, Henry.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Henry hugged him, using the stairs to hug him at a normal height. “I had a good time.”

“Me too,” Joey admitted, and wished him a goodnight, turning to go home. Hesitating, he looked back. “Henry?”

“Yeah?” Henry paused in the doorway of his apartment building. Joey tried to talk, but couldn’t. Henry smiled at his fluster. “What is it. Johan?”

“Coffee tomorrow? During the morning break?” Joey spoke quickly, redness swathing his cheeks. Henry grinned at him. “See you then?”

“Yup, I’ll get you from your office,” Henry affirmed, “Goodnight, Joey.”

Joey walked home slowly, replaying the night. It was so pleasant, unexpectedly so.

Henry almost kissed him! On the lips!

Joey paused under a streetlamp.

Henry Stein. Grant Cohen.

Joey Drew.

The perfectly wild trio.

He had hopes.

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Drew, here are the progress reports,” Grant muttered, dropping off the still raising influx. Joey thanked him, but he stood in front of his desk awkwardly. “How was your date?”

“It was really nice,” Joey confessed, setting down his inkwell. “Why?”

“You didn’t mention me, did you?”

“… you were referenced briefly.”

“Any hope for me?”

“I mean… possibly.”

“Are you going t-”

“Joey, it’s time for our da-” Henry paused mid sentence, offering Grant a tight but not unkind smile. He nodded to him in acknowledgement. “Mr. Cohen, if you don’t mind, I’m picking Joey up now.”

“Of course,” Grant’s smile was pained and false. Joey winced. “I’ll get back to work.”

“What was he talking to you about?” Henry asked him after they left the building. Joey shrugged. “Come now, it clearly wasn’t work related.”

“It was nothing,” Joey dismissed. Henry wrapped an arm around his hips, Joey’s arm resting over his back. They entered the coffee shoppe. After ordering and sitting with a croissant, Joey asked; “What’s your favorite thing about me, Henry?”

“You’re always so hopeful,” he replied after a moment, flushing on his ears as he answered. “No matter what happens, you always hope, and you run for days on nothing but hope and dreams, like you have an entire field of it. It comes to you so naturally. You have hope for the company, for your friends, for your family, for your loves, even for yourself. You, in hopes of being accepted, wear your heart on your skin, literally, and you never let people get you down. Just pure hope.”

“I love how incredible you are,” Joey looked at him with love. “Everything about you - you’re smart, and clever, and beautiful, and a great puzzle solver, a hard worker, and so amazing. You are just so… Henry. You’re funny and fast, everything about you is incredible.”

“You give me too much credit,” Henry smiled, waving a hand. “Surely my height is not incredible.”

“It’s incredibly adorable,” Joey retorted smugly. Henry pushed his face away. Joey laughed. “It’s true! If I were stronger, I would tote you around, because you’re so small.”

“Joey!” Henry indignantly yelped. “Even if it’s true, don’t say it!”

“I love all of you,” Joey softly told him. “I’d love you no matter how you’d look, because I love you for who you are. Your kindness and your inner beauty. I’ve loved you and admired you, your confidence and your persistence, and I want you to know that any traits I have are at your disposal and need, I love you, Henry.”

“Oh, Joey,” Henry covered his eyes. “You’re too kind, Ramirez.”

“Not really, all my kindness is a grape compared to yours,” Joey responded. “I’m a businessman, Henry, kindness is killed fairly quickly in this field.”

“You’ve got a big heart, Joey,” Henry tapped his pin. “You’ve always worn it on your sleeve. You lie a lot, but it’s so easy to tell you are, you’re an open book, Joey. You lie to hide it, and at the same time when you lie you show it, but you’re too full of love to keep it hidden.”

“Oh, you flatterer, Henry.”

They quieted, their hands meeting and intertwining on the table.

“Do you want to go back to work today?” Henry asked teasingly, knowing that in the past if Joey was asked something while he wasn’t paying attention, he’d likely answer in the affirmative.

“Hmm?”

“Are we going back to work?”

“Ah. I mean…” Joey looked to his shoes. “I would like to… n-not that I wouldn’t love spending the whole day with you, I’d love it so much, but… I want to uh… show you off.”

“You want to show me off?” Henry’s eyes lit up. “Like, bring me around the studio and to meetings and shit?”

“Kind of, and be next to you and holding your hand and being with you,” Joey admitted, covering his face. “Pointing at you and being able to say ‘that’s  **my** boyfriend!’ would be ideal.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“I love you though.”

“Hhhhhhhenry no.”

“Henry yes!”

 

* * *

 

No one had ever seen Joey so happy. At one point, Henry was carrying him around, Joey blushing and giddy.

Even Grant had to admit that he was happy for Joey. Their boss normally was so stressed and anxious.

Joey couldn’t stop smiling.

He didn’t even want to.

He never liked his smile, in fact, he was rather embarrassed by it, feeling it was too wide for his thin face.

Right then, he couldn’t care less as he beamed.

They were always touching in someway throughout the day, hands, hips, arms, close and sweet. Grant stared on enviously, but he knew that it was his own fault that he was put out.

They were both happy, Grant looking on from the side.

 

* * *

 

It happened on the fifth date. The were strolling in the park after their dinner when Henry stopped Joey and asked him to close his eyes.

“What for?” Joey wondered aloud, but followed Henry’s instructions. Henry took his hand and began tugging him somewhere off the path. “Henry, what’s happening?”

“Don’t peek!” Henry’s smile was clear in his voice. “Okay, just give me a sec.”

“Alright.”

“Okay. Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Good.”

Soft and warm lips pressed to Joey’s. Henry had stood on an old stump to kiss him, and he was going to make it the best one possible. Joey blinked, then his eyes closed again, wrapping his arms around Henry’s back and pulling him closer. Henry hummed appreciatively, and Joey giggled a bit as Henry’s stubble tickled against him. Joey pulled away, smiling at him tenderly. He kissed both his cheeks and his forehead.

“I love you!” he whispered with each time his lips touched Henry’s skin. “I love you, I love you, Henry, I love you!”

“Joey, you sweetheart,” Henry giggled, Joey kissing his nose. “I love you too, I really do….”

They broke apart after some minutes of this adoring exchange, and continued their walk as dusk began to fall, the sky’s colors flowing into one another, the purples swirling into oranges and oranges pushing into pinks.

Joey dropped Henry off at his home, but paused him by the foot of the staircase, kneeling down onto his knees, cupping Henry’s face and kissing him. It was pure and heartfelt, Joey’s pounding heart full of love.

Joey leaned back away slowly, gazing at Henry with worshipful awe and devotion.

“Most people get on their knees to perform the devil’s darkest deeds,” Henry murmured, tucking a hair behind Joey’s ear, watching him blush, “But you get on yours to bestow the sweetest of heaven’s angelic kisses.”

“Henry, hush, It’s my job to be poetic,” Joey, holding back a smile with flushed cheeks, said softly in reply. “Who knew you had such a way with words?”

“I’m about to not be nearly as articulate,” Henry smirked, Joey still flushed (and getting redder) but laughing quietly. Henry kissed him once more, swaying with him. Joey was on the verge of joyous tears when they split. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, Johan? Are we planning anything?”

“More kisses,” was all the lovestruck artist managed, blushing and covering his face. Henry laughed a little. “And maybe going out to lunch?”

“Sounds solid,” Henry chuckled, then started up the stairs. He motioned Joey to come near him, and pecked his lips. “First of many more kisses, Joey… goodnight, sweet, sweet dreams.”

“Si besarte fuera pecado, caminaría feliz por el infierno,” Joey murmured, and touched his lips, nearly exploding from euphoria. Then, aloud, “Goodnight, Henry.”

He returned home in delight, hugging Grant when he came in.

“You’re in a good mood,” his housemate pointed out, amused. “What happened, did Henry hug you?”

“Yes, he did, and…” Joey cut himself off, and practically glowed. He traced his own lips again. “He kissed me…!”

“Did he?” Grant was surprised. He thought Henry was just going with Joey to twist the knife. This was unexpected. Maybe it was a ruse, and Henry did not truly mean it. Suspicion flowed into Grant’s chest. “How many times?”

“Did he kiss me?” Joey sounded far away and infatuated. “Oh, Henry kissed me twice and I kissed him once… and he told me he loved me! He loves me, he loves me! Me! Joey Drew! Henry Stein loves me!”

“That’s wonderful,” Grant sighed, trying his best to be happy for him. Joey’s smile faded a little. “Joey, don’t feel bad about me, I fucked up. It’s alright.”

“Maybe…” Joey thought for a long time. “Apologize.”

“To you?”

“No, to Henry, for cheating. Ask him to take you back. I’ll support you.”

“Joey, you’re a miracle.”

“No, I’m nothing.”

Before Grant could protest that statement, Joey had already slipped to his room and closed the door.

 

* * *

 

Grant rocked with Henry as he cried, tears streaming through his makeup. Henry held him firmly.

“Henry, I’m so sorry,” Grant moaned, and his heart stung with every syllable. The weight of his actions  _finally_ kicked in. He literally went behind his boyfriend’s back to mess around with someone he promised that he would not, even after he fell back into love with Henry. He felt terrible. He should have spoken with him. “I wish that I thought things through with you and Joey….”

“I can’t forgive you yet, Grant,” Henry sighed, hugging him tighter. “I can’t take you back for a while. I need some more time with just me and Joey. But I’ll think about it. We’ll figure something out, alright?”

“Will you please think about it?” Grant pleaded. “Henry, I still love you and Joey, and it hurts….”

“Be patient, and we’ll make it all go good, okay?” Henry pacified him. Their hug broke apart gradually. Henry fished a waterproof mascara stick out of his pocket, handing it to Grant. “Here, I got this for you a while ago but forgot to give it to you. You can fix your five o’clock shadow now.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, blushing. He hugged him briefly, and smiled shakily. “So I can hope?”

“Yeah,” Henry assured him. “You can. Just give me a bit of time. A lot of time. About three months.”

 

* * *

 

Henry’s hand gently trailed Joey’s side as the lanky man read. Henry buried his face on Joey’s thin chest, Joey resting his chin on his head and his arms around him, his book leaning on his back. Henry put kisses up his sternum and then up his neck and chin, the man stilling and pausing in his reading. Henry smiled before kissing him, Joey tossing his book aside to pull his mouth closer to his own. Henry hesitated for the first time in quite a while before licking Joey’s lip. Joey pulled away, staring at him in marvel.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Henry was shocked by the intensity in which Joey reacted. The man’s thin, long hands shoved him down onto the couch, kissing him enthusiastically, his tongue working wonders in his mouth, Joey tasting musky bacon and smooth creamed coffee, his hands then entangling in his hair and his legs between Henry’s. Sparks bolted through both of them, Henry caressing his limbs and pulling him tight against himself, wrapping his short legs around Joey’s waist. It a fighting and passionate kiss, both struggling to take over, Joey weakening as Henry cupped the back of his neck to bring him even closer. His hand moved forward to stroke Joey’s hip, Joey gasping and moaning, but retaliated by biting his lip and pushing his thigh against the small of the other’s back. Henry groaned, smirking at Joey’s desirous yet loving expression. He pushed into his mouth one more time, finding the taste of ink and black coffee strangely pleasurable.

Joey leaned back, panting heavily, his lips red and his face almost the same maroon of his eyes. Henry’s breath came in short huffs, and he chuckled a little, rolling them over on the couch to be on top. Joey wrapped his arms around Henry, kissing his cheek softly. Henry ran his fingers through dark ink blue hair, tenderly stroking his cheek with his thumb. He noted how Joey seemed to lean into his fingers rather than his palm, and wondered why, and gently scratched him right under his ear and before his jaw.

Joey melted. Henry stared, he had never seen a man so dissolved and lovestruck. Joey seemed to stop any function aside smiling dopily, his whole body relaxed. Henry scratched him in the same place, and a soft pleasured whine escaped Joey, his eyes drooping and his mouth barely opened. Henry grinned, his own eyes becoming half lidded.

“You like that, huh?” he asked quietly, smirking. Joey whined again, his head tilting back and a rapturous look gracing his features. Henry repeated the motion, picking up speed until Joey was practically howling for it, grinning and high on dopamine. Henry kissed the spot, Joey unable to even make a sound, too ecstatic. Henry stroked the area, Joey already a pool of ink, all loving and so pliable. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

“Henry,” Joey cooed, the first thing he managed to articulate, moving to kiss his eyelid. “Henry… y’re more pretty… I love you, Henry….”

“I love you, Joey,” Henry nuzzled his neck. Joey sighed joyously, snuggling down under him. “Love you.”

 

* * *

 

“Henry?”

The water of the shower was running. They had been together for almost two months. Joey’s heart pounded.

“Yes, Johan?”

“Can I join you?”

“In the shower?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, hell yes.”

Joey entered the bathroom, the steam wafting around him like smoke.

He sucked in a breath of the watery air.

He knew Henry was watching him, and he carefully took off his pants and shorts. He paused again on his shirt.

“You can ask any questions you want, but… don’t pressure,” he quietly explained, taking off the final article, feeling raw in his bare skin. He rubbed off the makeup on that one scar he couldn’t bear looking at, the ‘SLUT’ on his flesh a glaring and taunting neon sign. He slipped into the shower, taking Henry’s pale hand in his tanned one as water ran over them. “I promise I’ll answer.”

Henry didn’t speak, instead trailed his eyes and hands over his body carefully as though he were an artifact to be treated and handled with reverence. Joey exhaled, Henry’s hands coming to rest on his shoulders, and he was slowly bent into a kiss.

“Are you alright?” Henry asked him. He replied in the affirmative. “Okay. I’m going to ask questions now, first of all… who did this?”

“It… many people,” Joey answered. “My first, uh ‘boyfriend’ gave me the… the words right there. My brother… took care of him. My brother also… my brother gave me a lot of these as well.”

Henry lathered soap onto a loofa, gently covering all the scars on his chest, rinsing them tenderly.

“There,” he announced, kissing each one. “Now they’re clean, and I love each and every one of them because they’re all you. I love you.”

He moved onto his arms, and looked sadly at the old cuts of frustration and inner sadness. He kissed them as well, going from his hands to his shoulders, and kissing the deep scar on the left shoulder, clearly a missed attack to the heart.

“Who tried to kill you?”

“My step father’s cousin.”

“Is he gone for good.”

“I… I killed him.”

“Self defense?”

“Yes. After he stabbed me.”

“Good.”

The water felt like it was washing away his sins under Henry’s touch.

Henry turned him to face his back to himself.

“Oh god…” Henry breathed, studying the old marks of devastating wounds. He had seen a glimpse of them after tearing his shirt, but not the full picture. He kissed every inch of Joey’s back, even his shoulders, horrified by the scarring, but adoring the man who wore them on his skin. He was so precious and incredibly strong for someone in so much pain. “I love you so much, you never deserved this to happen to you.”

“I think that the people that did it needed to…” Joey struggled to find the words. “They deserved releasing, but they shouldn’t have chosen to release through hurting someone else. I’m okay with their choice though, even if I didn’t deserve it. Maybe I’ll earn something for it.”

“I thought you don’t believe in God?”

“Maybe n-not a traditional god, but… I feel like something is watching out for me.”

“I’m here too,” Henry hummed holding him from behind and swaying with him. “I love you.”

Joey turned to him, smiling a little.

“¿Mi amour, te lavaré?”

“You know I don’t speak Spanish,” Henry laughed. “English, please.”

“No es tan dificil, mi querido,” Joey smoothly replied. Henry groaned with a smile on his face. “El inglés es muy aburrido, de todos modos.”

“Joey, oh my god, I don’t know what you’re saying!”

“Nada coqueto,” Joey purred in his ear. Henry blazed red. “Prefiero estar enamorado y en silencio. También, me comería una uva en lugar de asno.”

“That sounded way too sexual,” Henry bluntly told him. Joey grinned, shrugging, fluffing his partner’s hair, and putting shampoo in it, pushing up the wavy blonde hair to make it stand on end. He giggled, smooshing his face to the suds. Henry laughed, reaching up to hug him. Joey rocked with him, pressing bubby kisses all over his face and shoulders. Henry sighed happily. “You’re so sweet.”

“Las manzanas son más dulces,” he intoned, cocking an eyebrow, “Incluso las agrias.”

“Oh, enough with the Spanish,” Henry rolled his eyes. He ran his hand through Joey’s nearly black hair. “This is surprisingly long.”

“Used to be longer,” Joey whispered, reminiscing. “It was to my shoulders, I got it cut when I left my home.”

“Ah.”

They finished the shower when the water ran cold, drying off, snuggling down on the bed and changing each other. Joey suddenly started giggling.

“What is it?” Henry asked him, amused. “Is something the matter?”

“I can’t help but realize we just had sex in reverse,” Joey laughed, Henry’s eyes widening and narrowing. “Think about it -- shower, wipe off, bed, clothes.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Henry chuckled. He pulled Joey to his chest, turning him so that he could hold his back to his heart, their beats aligned and slow, relaxed. He kissed between Joey’s shoulder blades. “I know you love being the little spoon.”

“I do,” Joey blushed, closing his eyes happily. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Grant!” Henry caught up to him. “Date, seven o’clock, at your place. Joey’s setting it up.”

Grant gawked at him.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes! Aren’t you excited!?”

“Oh, hell, you bet I am!” Grant cried, grinning ear to ear. “Is this just you and me or all three of us?”

“Joey’s debating if he wants to join,” Henry smiled. “In all likelihood, it’ll be all three.”

“Oh, wow, I…” Grant’s eyes filled, and he flung his arms around Henry, burying his face in his hair. “Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you….”

“Don’t thank me, thank Joey,” Henry chuckled. “He won me over.”

“I’m still thanking you for falling for him,” Grant laughed, hugging him even tighter, lifting him to his toes. “Oh god, I forgot how much I love your height!”

“Grant!” Henry yelped, mortified. Grant squeezed harder, smirking. “Grant, don’t bring up my height like that!”

“Well, I’m not much taller, you know,” Grant smugly replied, tucking Henry under his arm. Henry pouted. “Now, you are mine, and I shall take you where I please.”

“Grant, you shit,” Henry grumbled, blushing and folding his arms. “Why have you done this?”

“Because I can,” was the retort. After toting him around for an hour, he set him down and kissed his temple. “See you tonight.”

 

* * *

 

Henry pulled Joey into a kiss after the tall man had put something into the oven, catching him at a moment he was stooped low already. Joey nearly shrieked from surprise, but he relaxed instantly.

“Someone’s looking forward to dinner,” Joey teased. Henry grinned, and Joey continued in a neutral tone. “Adivina quién es para el postre?”

“If you’re asking if I’m hungry, the answer is yes,” Henry replied to the words he had absolutely no understanding of. Joey chuckled, kissing the side of his neck. “Are you looking forward to tonight?”

“I am,” he admitted, sitting down and fidgeting with a smile on his lips. He rubbed his face. “It’s so… unrealistic to me. Like this never could have happened. Me, loving both of you and you loving each other… just so surreal.”

“We love you too, you know,” Henry reminded him. “Grant and I… we both adore you.”

“Henry, you’re embarrassing me,” Joey cachinatted. “In front of you, for your information.”

“Well, I find you cute when you blush,” Henry responded, pausing briefly. “Actually, you’re always cute.”

Joey muttered something in spanish in his hands, red visible between his fingers. Henry pulled his hands away gently, gazing into his eyes with pride, leaning in to kiss him when the knock, hesitant, came onto their door.

Henry beamed, Joey getting up to receive their guest (in his own home).

Grant smiled at them nervously.

Something told Joey it would all work out.

“Isn’t Joey an astounding cook?” Henry asked Grant while the third of their party had gone to get a drink, too giddy to sit still for too long. “It’s so odd, I expected that he burnt everything that he made.”

“He’s excellent, truly excellent. As for burning food… only his own stuff,” Grant shrugged. “You know, because he gets distracted so easily. Sometimes, I would get him to eat by asking him to set stuff up for me as well.”

“Nice,” Henry complimented, Joey walking in, staring at the two and unable to contain his grin, struggling with his own face. “Joey, something the matter?”

“Give me a second,” he breathed, love spilling out of his eyes like a waterfall. He rubbed his face with a half laugh. “Oh, bless you both, I can’t believe it… I can’t believe you’re both here and both… I can’t explain it.”

“We can,” Grant smoothly interjected, taking Joey’s hand and walking to Henry with him. He took Henry’s hand as well and held both together. “We love each other. That’s all that’s to it.”

Joey looked between them, and a flush crept up his neck.

“I want to kiss you,” he said directly in the middle of them. “But who the hell do I kiss first!?”

Henry and Grant both cracked up, and both pressed a kiss to Joey’s cheeks.

He imploded of joy.

 

* * *

 

A month had passed.

Joey draped his lanky body over both his boyfriends’ laps in the pub room, them complaining that he was too much of a cat. He glared at them, silently demanding affection. They looked at each other with a sigh to hide their amusement, gently running their hands over his body. He grinned, his eyes drifting shut and head tilting back. His neck was exposed. Grant eyed it, desire pinging through him. He leaned over to Henry, whispering a question. Henry shifted, then grinned with a shrug, muttering in reply. Grant smirked, opening his mouth and pushing his teeth to Joey’s throat. Joey jolted with a yelp before the feeling of Grant’s lips and teeth on his neck overtook his mind like a stampede, coupled with Henry’s hands slipping under his shirt completely shutting him down, moans running out his lips. Henry stood, pulling Joey onto his feet, Grant right behind him. Joey, not supporting his legs, sandwiched between them. Joey suddenly seemed to regain himself, squirming between them with a red face, Henry holding his legs in a way that prevented him from finding his footing, Grant’s chest and legs also pressing against him.

“Wait, wait, I had a meeting planned!” he desperately tried to worm his way out of the situation. “Mx. Bent-”

“Lacie can wait,” Grant hummed. “The company has been doing amazing since Disney vanished, and the park can get more funding after the end of the week, even with your crazy ink machine.”

“Oh, you both are hell bent on getting me in bed, aren’t you?” he inquired sarcastically, and found himself blazing as they simply chuckled. “Oh… you really are!?”

Lacie walked in, froze, and stared.

“W’ot the fock am I lookin’ at?”

“Ah, Mx. Benton!” Joey’s voice was high pitched, wavering, and strained. “I-I’m a bit, uh, ha, busy, um, ah, can you allow us to reschedule for tomorrow if possible!”

“Alright,” she smirked, and leaned against the doorframe. “But what if I’d rather have the meeting now just to watched how flustered you’d get?”

“We have an audience, Henry,” Grant drawled, making Henry grin evilly as he moved Joey’s hips against both of theirs. Joey held in a screech. “Oh, isn't he precious?”

“Guys…” Joey murmured, trying to push Henry off and failing as his strength was decimated by their touches. “Can we just take this home?!”

“Fine, fine,” Henry hummed, lifting him higher and carrying him out the door, nodding with a smirk at the glimming Lacie. Grant followed, beaming with dark eyes. Henry brought them to the metro, seating Joey between himself and Grant. “Grant, isn't it lovely when Joey can’t talk?”

Joey kept his mouth shut and tried not to focus on the fact that both of their hands rested on his thighs, Grant’s sweeping up and down his leg. Their passenger mates gave him odd looks, one with her briefcase full of papers sticking out grinning at them, aware of the reason behind every action.

“Oh, I know ways to keep him like this,” Grant chuckled darkly, this time  _his_ hand the one tugging on another’s tie. Joey paled and grew more flushed at the same time. “He won’t be able to talk for a  _long_ time.”

Joey gulped down fear, his mind shifting it into curiosity. He had never been choked in this way, the only times he had been choked to be murdered. Maybe it was good?

They made it to their stop, Grant practically shoving them home. As soon as the door was closed behind them all, Grant shoved Johan against the door, kissing his neck and tearing off Joey’s suit jacket. Henry removed Grant’s own jacket and shirt, tossing it down on Joey’s. Joey melted, sliding down the door with a groan. Grant pulled him up, moving him to the staircase so he could kiss him proper but did not immediately, simply watching him tremble. Henry rubbed himself against Joey, grinning against his back, Joey’s knees buckling, Henry catching him. Grant’s hand slid up to grasp Joey’s throat, smirking at him as he could feel him swallow. Joey moaned, one of his hands behind him and tangled in Henry’s golden waves, the other reaching to Grant. Grant caught his wrist, grinning at the man’s helpless look of shock, and he kissed Joey heatedly.

“It’s payback,” he muttered in his lips, smirking, fingers on Joey’s throat pulsing. Joey gasped, Henry’s hand toying with his buttons, the other on his leg. “Henry, isn't he gorgeous?”

“Beautiful,” Henry chuckled, adjusting his hips on Joey’s body. “Upstairs?”

“Bedroom,” Grant confirmed, Henry easily lifting Joey bridal style, swiftly bringing him up the stairs. He deposited him on the bed, both he and Grant pausing to look over him hungrily. His heart pounded in his chest, filling with both love and some fear. Henry kissed Grant and quickly got on the bed, taking off his shirt and letting it fall on the floor as he pressed kisses all over Joey’s face, taking off both of their glasses and setting them on the side table. Grant’s pair joined them, and he slipped onto the bed beside Henry, binder removed for safety, kissing his ear as he undid his shirt. Joey didn’t protest this removal as he normally would, allowing them to see his whole body and all his scars. Those scars were all kissed in turn, Joey sighing his pleasure. Grant kissed Henry and then Joey. “Love you both.”

“Love you, too, Grant,” two voices chimed in, one smug and the other breathless. Joey smiled at them shakily. “Love you, Henry.”

“Oh, do you?” the animator hummed. Henry kissed Joey deeply, making the man beneath them moan and shiver from their caresses. “Well, I love you, too, Johan.”

 

* * *

 

Joey knew he was almost yelling how much he loved them, the whispers long since gone in crescendo.

He didn’t care, Henry over him and Grant under him, the only thing holding him to his body instead of a completely transcended plane of existence their touches. He  _loved_ the feeling of them being a part of him, feeling the same way he did.

The feeling of being together and  _feeling_ their intimate connection was enough to give Joey the strength to lift a mountain, but instead he spent it on shouting his praises to his two angels, even as he was threaded apart seam by seam in euphoria.

 

* * *

 

Joey breathed, looking up at the ceiling.

Two warm (and satisfyingly, in a twisted way, sticky) bodies were enveloping him in a soft embrace.

He felt like crying.

Not because he was sad.

But from the sheer knowledge that he had truly seen two of the most wonderful people and they had really seen him, all his flaws and scuffs and scars, and they still loved him.

He loved them.

He sighed, smiling, wrapping his arms around them and drifting off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Okay, now he would admit he was sad.

It was not that he was sad because of Henry and Grant, not at all.

He wanted a kid.

He had no idea where the desire came from. He never was attracted to women, and still was not, but he just really wanted a kid.

Maybe it was because of Linda. Henry’s girl he helped raise, who called him Papa with a spanish accent even before he and Henry even thought that they could ever get together. He loved her, but he wanted a child.

He needed one.

His heart hurt when he saw mothers and fathers and parents with their children in playgrounds or when they came in as test audiences.

He knew why he wanted a kid.

He had a soft spot for them, and always wanted to provide a family and home for someone, the kind of which he never got.

But no, he was denied it.

His eyes landed on the letter again.

_Mr. Johan Ramirez,_

He sniffed, staring at it alongside his polio diagnosis.

_We regret that you are unable to adopt._

He bit his lip, trying not to scream.

_Your qualifications were admirable, but you are ineligible for the following reasons:_

They sent him a fucking list of his faults.

_Unmarried,_

That shouldn’t stop someone from adopting. He rubbed his arms.

_Numerous medical problems, such as depression, anxiety, PTSD, and polio,_

Was this meant to rip him to shreds? Because if it was, it was succeeding.

_And finally homosexuality._

The scream burst out of him, and he flipped over his desk in anger and hurt and frustration.

_We are sorry that you are unqualified to adopt._

Tears poured out of his eyes, footsteps rushing to his office door, two pairs of arms wrapping around him and holding him as he shook in his sobs, collapsing.

_Sorry that you are unqualified to adopt._

“What’s wrong?” Henry asked quietly, kissing his cheeks. “Johan, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

_You are unqualified to adopt._

“Joey, please answer us,” Grant pleaded. Joey shook harder and cried more. “Joey, we’re here for you….”

_Unqualified to adopt._

“Joey,” Henry’s voice was morose and tired. “Joey, we both love you so much, please tell us what’s wrong.”

 _Unqualified_.

He sobbed at pointed at the letter on the floor.

Grant and Henry read it.

They hugged him and cried with him, whispering reassurances.

“We love you,” they told him over and over. “We love you, we love you….”

 

* * *

 

“You got this,” Joey assured himself eight months later, his hand shaking, the other gripping the glass tight. The blade tugged on his skin, barely making a wavering scratch. Joey sucked in a breath, steeling himself, two other small vials of blood on the desk, one marked HS and the other GC. “Do it for them, c’mon, there needs to be all three of us….”

“One, two, three!” he stabbed the knife into his arm, keeping his eyes shut and listening for the sound of the blood filling the glass. He felt dizzied, opening his eyes to regain his balance, and saw the knife in his arm and the red life giving liquid seeping out of it. His vision flickered as his breathing became irregular. He stared at his hand, watching as time glitched and he was fourteen again. He looked up in fear, and hissed “Oh, fuck!”

Blood was everywhere. His shoulder ached. His eyes stung. His arm hurt. And he was covered in blood, some his own and some not. A corpse lay before him. He whimpered, knowing he had murdered him. He shook his head, trying to rid the memory from his vision. 

He managed to, after collapsing, the metal of the ink machine before him. He stared at his reflection, touching his mirrored face, exhaling, swallowing repeatedly, hardly making it to the trash bin to vomit. He shook, disgusted by the taste of bile. He wiped his mouth, looking at the desk. Blood trailed his path, but he had filled a vial. He smiled minutely, standing shakily to grab his manuscript and to close the container of blood, drawing a pentagram and putting six objects around it, the three bottles of blood, an abacus, a pen and paper, and an inkwell.

He turned on the ink machine.

*****

“Great news!” Henry happily announced. “Linda is officially in my custody, permanently!”

“That’s wonderful,” Grant beamed. “Joey’s gonna be happy.”

“I am!” Joey’s tanned face glowed. He became nervous. “On another hand, on the same body of family… I… may or may not have done another ritual.”

“You promised you won’t do something like that again!” Henry reminded, upset, standing. “And what does this have to do with family!?”

“Relax, it was a month ago,” Joey told them calmly, they exchanging worried glances. “I needed your blood.”

“Our  _blood_?!” Grant exclaimed, horrified. “Did you take our  _ **blood**_!?”

“It was an amount your body immediately regenerated!” Joey defended himself. “I had to get my own blood, too, you know, otherwise it wouldn’t be us!”

“Johan, what did you do!?” Henry demanded. Joey smiled crookedly. “Joey! Tell us what you have done!”

“Linda’s going to have some little siblings,” he breathed. Henry and Grant stared at him. He walked to the door in his office to the ink machine. “C’mon out, guys.”

“I’m not a guy!” the indignant, amalgamated, childlike voice of Allison and Susie blustered, the small owner of the voice leaving the room, her hands on her baby hips. “I am an  **angel**! A  ** _goddess_**!”

“Oh my god, she’s you,” Henry breathed, nudging Grant. The inky toddler turned to peer at him, tilting her head. She tugged Joey’s pant leg, and he knelt to hear her. He nodded. She carefully walked over to them, blue piecut eyes studying them meticulously. Henry bent down to see her, Grant joining him. “Hey kid. Alice, right?”

“Alice Drew!” she corrected smugly. She frowned a moment. “Actually, it’s Alice Drew-Cohen-Stein, but that’s too long. For me at least. Boris doesn’t mind.”

“Don’t talk about me behind my back, Alice, or I’ll eat your candy again,” a lower child’s voice cut in, the wolf’s blushes bigger in his embarrassment. Grant gripped Henry’s arm, the wolf sharing his soft chocolate brown eyes. The angel stuck her tongue out at him. “Papa! Alice is being mean!”

“That’s my angel, sticking up for herself,” Joey grinned, coming over with a final inky baby hiding in his arms, smoothing down her hair, pressing a kiss to her halo. He bounced the child he held, who shook his head and stayed in Joey’s hold. He smiled apologetically. “Bendy is shy. He hasn’t grown into his natural charisma yet.”

The young demon peeked at them, Joey’s amber maroon flashing at them for an instant.

Henry looked at Joey with no sign of being impressed, and then he sighed and smiled, picking Boris and Alice up and holding them close.

“So, I’m a daddy of four now?” he chuckled softly, kissing each child’s forehead. “You’re insane, Johan, but we love you.”

“Wait,” Grant cried out, “If Henry’s daddy, and you’re papa, what do I get to be?”

“Abba,” Alice beamed. Grant blinked, tears flooding his eyes. “Abba, is something wrong?”

“Give her to me,” Grant breathed, taking her in his arms, tears dripping down his cheeks. “Yes, yes, Abba… oh God, I haven’t heard that word since Germany… oh, time flies.”

Bendy peered at them again carefully. Henry and Grant smiled at him softly. He smiled back a little.

Grant’s smile broke, and he scowled at Joey bitterly. Henry sighed, the same exasperated expression on his face even as he held Boris in his arms.

“Are you mad at me?” Joey asked quietly, looking at his feet. “I completely understand if you are.”

“We are a little shaken up,” Henry sighed. “And we expect an explanation, as well as a bit of time to think.”

“It’ll all work out, though,” Grant assured him. He smiled at Joey. “After all, these are our… ink and blood kids.”

“We’ll figure it all out,” Henry beamed. “Together.”

“Together,” Grant affirmed.

“Together,” Boris and Alice reiterated happily.

“Together,” the little ink demon whispered from Joey’s chest.

“Together,” Joey promised them, “As the family we are.”


End file.
